.:Terms And Conditions Apply:.
The Dark Knight thought on the matter of why our dreams had lead us to one another for hours, sitting besides me in my cellar prison. He did not speak, lost in his own troubled thoughts. Exhaustion finally took me, and when I woke the Dark Knight had gone. This time, though, he did not leave me in darkness, for I was surprised to see a small orb radiating light from the middle of cellar, hovering off the ground. For the first time ever I really saw my prison, but there was nothing there save for the grim stone walls and rat droppings. Other than that, there were just the stairs and me.
The Dark Knight left me alone for two days, though I often heard him dithering around near the trap door, or arguing furiously with himself. I went hungry. Sometimes I tried to call him, begging for him to bring me the smallest morsel of food, or even a meagre sip of drink. Every time, though, the Dark Knight kept silent and refused to listen to my pleas. Once he grew angry and stomped one boot down hard on the trap door, shaking dust down between the floorboards. It worked though, for I chose to remain silent despite the growling of my stomach. What was worse, when I slept I still dreamt of the forest, but he was never there. He was avoiding me. And I felt so guilty. I felt as though I was suffocating in my loneliness. Now my tears seemed so insignificant that my eyes grew hard and refused to shed even a single drop of my inner sorrow.
King Oren of Tirrius was looking bored. He sat besides his son and stared out across at the pale-faced guards that had just returned from searching the land for any sign of his daughter. He listened their hesitant, humble report of their three-day hunt, but there was still no sign of Princess Eloryn. There had been confusion after the party, for Eloryn had not appeared to bid her guests farewell. Some had commented that they had seen her talking to one of the palace servants, and the initial thought was that she had finally decided to ask a man back to her room, much to King Bacall's obvious irritation. But that thought had been ruined after a servant was sent to knock on Elroyn's door and she did not answer. On further inspection, neither the Princess nor the servant was to be found. The search the followed saw all the palace being turned inside out, and the next day all of the servants were questioned. When the description of the servant that had been seen talking to Eloryn had been read out to them, none of the servants recognised the man. The was when the royal family realised that Eloryn had been kidnapped.
King Oren sighed and shook his head as the guards made another feverish apology for their failure to locate his daughter. What was the point in worrying over spilt milk? If Eloryn was gone, she was gone, King Oren thought. If Carsona was still interested in a marriage, he had another daughter. But she was still just a child.
The Crown Prince cursed under his breath and was about to argue with the guards, wanting to tell them that no, it was not all right – his little sister was lost and could be in grave danger at that very second! But then something happened. The hall fell silent as a man entered the room. His robes will simple, bland in comparison to the finery worn by the King and his fellows, but that was not what made all of the men stiffen in their seats, mouth becoming thin lines of distaste. The man wore the broach of a messenger and another of a magician, pinned to his breast.
"Sire," he said, and bowed awkwardly to King Oren. The man's mouth flickered into a snarl, but he nodded, signalling for the man to speak his words and be gone. Already, the King was looking pale and sickly so close to the magic sorcerer. "Sire, I bring you news of the utmost importance. Your brother-in-law, the King of Igorance, has received a message from the Dark Knights of his country, and it...it would seem as though they are the ones that have abducted your daughter. They have given him a message, and I have been told that I must show you." From his coat, the magician drew out a tiny purple rock, and ran a finger of its smooth surface. "If I may?"
"Please," Harte spoke up, before his father could snap at the man to be gone. "If you will be so kind as to relieve us all from our worry."
The magician sighed sadly. "I regret, then, that this will do no such thing." And with that he spoke a command and the purple rock began to glow.
"Great gods above!" gasped someone, as the magician dropped the rock to the ground and stepped back as a line of twenty-odd men suddenly appeared before the King and the Crown Prince. They were faded, the image blurred slightly, but the image was not so blurred that the court could not recognise the formidable bronze masks of the Dark Knights at the men's faces.
To the court's horror, one of the men began to speak. It was hard to tell who the voice belonged to, but it seemed that the person was speaking from behind all of the Dark Knights' masks. "My gracious King, greetings. We know that you have searched for many days for the Princess Eloryn, but to no avail. Let us now take away the need for your pointless searching and tell you that we have the Princess in our hands. She is our prisoner, and there are terms that you and your brother-in-law, the King of Tirrius, must agree to if you are to ever see her alive again.
"King Rychard, you must end the alliance with the King of Herhas and instead form one with witch Queen Heldrida. You must stop the taxes on the magicians in the Lower Lands, and give back a tenth of the land you stole from the desert trolls. King Oren, you must stop your foolish prosecution of our people. If you do not, you will not have the death of your daughter on your conscious, but also that of many thousands of your people. If our terms are not met within a week of the next full moon, the Princess will be killed. Our blessings."
And with that, the image flickered and was gone. The next day, the unfortunate messenger had his heart cut from his body by the royal executioner.
I kept my eyes lowered to the floor as I allowed the Dark Knight to gently spoon another mouthful of the stew into my mouth. I heard him sigh as I swallowed the food, feeling as though there was a great ball of emotion lodged in my throat that wasn't allowing me to eat properly. He hesitantly placed his hand onto my shoulder.
"I know you don't like this, Eloryn, but you have to understand that I can't just have you wandering around," he told me quietly. It had been three days since the Dark Knight had decided to start talking to me, and three days since I allowed myself to be fed like a little child. "Don't hate me."
"I don't hate you," I confessed sadly. "I just think you're a fool for allowing someone to boss you around."
"The Dark Knights don't boss me around," he replied with a shrug. He stirred the stew absently as he sat, then helped himself to a spoonful. "Your father bosses people around all the time, including yourself. Does that make you a fool?"
"My father, my father," I muttered angrily. "Why does everything with you boil down to my father? If you are so intent in asking these ridiculous questions about my father, why didn't you abduct him instead?"
I heard the young man chuckle at my words. "You were the easiest to get to. You've also get a better sense of right and wrong."
"How do you know?"
"It's one of the things I'm good at: judging how much good and bad there is in a person."
That made me look at him. "Everyone has good and bad in them. It all depends on which side the person chooses to listen to."
His blue eyes flashed as he smiled. "You're also wiser than your father." I opened my mouth to speak, but he already seemed to know what I was about to say. "And not all of the Dark Knights are warped by evil."
"So that means there are some who are powered mainly by evil?" I wanted to know, but it drew only another grim smile. The Dark Knight no longer wore his mask around me any more.
"There are a couple in the Dark Knights, just as there are a couple in the royal household. I sensed them while I was "working" there."
He raised the spoon to my lips again and grinned as I pulled a face. I obediently took the food that was offered, knowing from previous experiences that he would leave me hungry if I let my pride get the better of me. I had learnt more about consequences here in the cellar than I had in my eighteen years in the palace, and I was surprisingly grateful for them.
"Will you tell me your name?" I asked him as he began to stir the stew again. He paused and looked up at me, eyes searching my face with concern, as though trying to sense some foul play. "I know your face well enough now that I may as well know your name."
"Here marks my downfall," the Dark Knight sighed dramatically, then nodded. "All right. My name is Myron of Ēnastral, previously from Greian." I hesitated, for Ēnastral was a province in King Bacall's kingdom of Casarno, and it was not famed for the politeness or loyalty of its people. But Greian was in my father's kingdom! "Ah. I see you know the names."
"I do," I confessed. "Myron. That's a nice name."
"Thanks," the Dark Knight – no, Myron – answered. "My mother thought so too." Pain flashed momentarily across his face; the pain of an horrific memory. Myron shook his head, face becoming as stone. I decided to change the subject.
"Has there been any news as to whether the my uncle and father have agreed to the Dark Knights' terms?"
This seemed to make Myron angry again, for he scowled and cursed bitterly. "Yes. Your uncle is not at all pleased, but he has granted the Dark Knights' wishes, all save forming a new alliance with Queen Heldrida. Your father..." Myron spat on the floor. "He would rather kiss an ogre than agree to the terms, it would seem. I hope he does agree, and soon. It's nearly the week before the full moon."
My blood turned to ice. I knew what he meant, but I was too afraid to allow my mind the luxury of turning a blind eye. "You mean that the Dark Knights will have me killed?"
"I don't know," Myron answered, then offered me another mouthful of stew. He must have seen from the look on my face that I felt suddenly too sickened to eat it, and instead he got to his feet and made towards the staircase. At the top he paused, half turning to me. He looked saddened and his crystal blue eyes were full of regret. "There...there are fates worse than death when magic is concerned," he told me shamefully.
The magic holding my arms loosened. My arms slumped into my lap. I looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, Myron."
Myron nodded in reply, then he turned and vanished into his own living quarters above.
Pirate – Issue are all good! Yeh, I do have a lot of explaining, and believe me I am thinking!! -
Matakia – Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying it!
martini the brave – You know, I'm really not a romantic type! This is kinda out of character for me, but I am trying!
Mrs. Gallagher – Thank you for the reviews! I hope this chapter wasn't too bad!
Everyone else, hope you enjoyed too! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit!