Author's Note:
Greeting to my wonderful fanfictioners! And apologies for the long wait for this next chapter (again). I will do my best to keep updating regularly. Anyways, hope you enjoy the reading! It's a short one, but I'm hoping to add more soon!
Please continue your awesome reviews (Or even not so awesome ones. I don't mind feedback)
Here it is!
Alazair could help shivering as he made his way through the series of tunnels that ran beneath the dam. The air was putrid with mold and stagnant puddles hopscotched the cold, muddy ground. Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, Alazair marveled at the child he was carrying. The princess was like a portable heater. The chilly air seemed to flee from her, and she stared up at him with serious, deep blue eyes.
Alazair chuckled. Elsa was definitely a descendant of Beteran. Someday, when she was grown, she would be such a powerful asset. No one would be able to withhold a thing from him with this monstrous force beneath his wing. Sure, Beteran had failed him. Elsa would not. She would be ten times the sorceress that Edvard was a sorcerer.
Glancing down at the baby, Alazair's lips rose unattractively into a malevolent grin. Elsa continued watching him intently. What concentration for a newborn. She would be an easy pupil.
Whisking around a corner, Alazair stopped, running his hand over the slimy wall. After a moment, he felt the hidden knob beneath his palm and pressed it firmly. A creaking echoed softly through the empty tunnels as a door opened, mud and rock sliding off of it. Slipping into the dark room, Alazair closed the opening behind them and placed Elsa in the cradle he had prepared for her. Then he shut his eyes. He focused his thoughts. He opened his eyes sharply, and fire crackled into existence in the fireplace on the hearth. Alazair shivered and moved closer to the heat. Smiling at the feeling of power radiating from his own hands, the miracle man allowed the tingling sensation to spread through his body. Heat built up inside him until he was sweating, his skin red. This was much better than the cold. Alazair's powers faded suddenly, and his face fell into frustration. With the rate of his gift's decay, he would become an average, wearisome, normal human being in a few years time. He would no longer have the ability to control people on a whim, the way he had been doing for his whole life.
But then again, maybe he would. He glanced at the cradle where the stolen princess lay, and let loose another one of his unsightly smiles. This girl would be his insurance, his guarantee of power through the years.
And now she was his.