Title: Playing The Fool
Author: Mon Petit Pierrot
Fandom: Morganville Vampires
Rating: T (for safety)
Summary: "Ah, I expected you would say that also." Myrnin marked his place with the utmost care and closed the book, setting it in his lap. "I'm afraid I have to decline your offer, Bishop."
Note: 'Playing The Fool' is the new title for this if you don't recognize it, formerly known as 'Fool'.
So there will only be about two chapters left, maybe three if we're lucky, and then there will be a sequel that will be from Myrnin's POV for the rest of Lord of Misrule. I might be going with "Misrule" for the sequel - I know, creative right? - but I'm not sure yet, though I welcome suggestions. I have been getting reviews telling me to continue so I will be continuing this through Kiss of Death which I will hopefully be getting this week. This chapter was nearly the death of me. I wrote and rewrote about 5 times before I posted this chapter so I'm glad I finally wrote it.
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Playing The Fool
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MANY MANY MANY MANY THANKS TO YOU LOVELY PEOPLE WHO HAVE ENCOURAGED THE CONTINUATION OF THIS:ShadowxMagic, chickentyrant5, LeeAnnxx, twirlgirl1996, NothingnessAlchemist, Chatterbox1603, bunyipbabe, xXxVampChicaxXx, sweet little nightmare, Xenakisfox10112, and Valentina-Lestrange.
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Myrnin staggered back and collapsed against the wall with the weight of the chains dragging him to the floor. His skin burned, but it was only a faint annoyance, as he cursed under his breath at his foolishness. He would have been at fault and the town would fall to Bishop if their carefully laid plans fell apart, simply because of a brief lapse in control.
Idiot.
He would have been persecuted and strung over a high flame with several stakes buried deep in his back - and Amelie and the other humans laughing in triumph at his death, no doubt. She would relish his death if this were to happen...oh, she would, he knew. Just as he would savor the dying cries of Bishop's pets. What a dream.
Let the actors commence.
He looked up and smiled almost sheepishly at Bishop. "So sorry, Master Bishop. A moment of weakness. You understand, of course? But I've nothing. I'm starved," he whispered as he rose to his feet fluidly, his face inches away from the older vampire's. Daring to breach the limit. Such a thin line.
"Unstable. For that is what you are, fool," he answered smoothly, though his voice was very quiet. "Always. Have you no restraint?"
Laughter bubbled out uncontrollably, wild cackles bouncing off the cold walls. "Restraint! Ha! What is restraint? Must have died, has it?" He giggled and leaned back, careful to act as though bored. Probably didn't fool Bishop. Never worked. "I need blood, that is what I need. For sure. Delicious, glorious blood, such a wonderful elixir, wouldn't you say?"
"Hm." Bishop didn't sound interested, but Myrnin prattled on and on about the wonders of blood. He wasn't even sure of what he was saying. Words were flowing out of his mouth too fast for him to understand them. He couldn't keep up.
It was a wonder that Bishop didn't shut him up right then and there.
"Your insanity is astounding, fool."
Myrnin felt the wild urge to laugh again, "Insanity, is that it? Why, it is not so different. Just a separate state of mind, is all. I embrace it."
"You are nothing but a jester in this high court."
He shrugged indifferently. He knew it was the truth. "I see." He hummed happily under his breath for a moment as he paced closer to Bishop and then stepped back, moving constantly from one place to another. "Perhaps you could help me, Mr. Bishop." He smirked, a manic smile stretching wider as he spoke. "Shall we make a deal?"
"A deal, fool? For your life or this pathetic town? Do tell me. I'm interested."
"For my life, of course. I owe no loyalty to the town or its residents." Myrnin snorted in disgust and turned his head away from the thought; inwardly he was rather enjoying himself, having carelessly played with others' emotions his long life. He was quite familiar with this game. "I know, and you know, that this town will quickly into nothing if we don't have a firm ruler. Your daughter is not the best candidate for the job, as you well know."
"Of course not," Bishop sniffed. "I am the one who gave her all that precious knowledge."
Myrnin nodded in eager agreement, stepping forward again. Waiting. For Bishop to take the bait.
"What are the terms, should I agree, my dear fool?"
His smile widened, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "I shall obtain the book. And gift you with it."
The stage is set.
"Morganville, and Amelie, if you so desire, will be yours," Myrnin bowed, elaborately low to show his unwavering and deep support, "my lord."
May it begin.