Eyes Like Mine

by ValerieArgent16

It's been 7 years since he left her and he keeps her identity a secret from everybody. She was born in the worst slam of all, Crematoria; but when Necromongers set out to destroy the last threat to their survival, Riddick knows she is no longer safe inside the slam and with eyes like his, she doesn't blend into the crowd. Will she forgive him for abandoning her? Can he save her?

28. Four Years Later

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

What is a Queen without her King?

* Elisha's POV *

I watched him like a hawk from my wide open French doors as the young toddler wobbles on his chubby legs through the short green grass freckled with yellows flowers, struggling to keep up with Hans as they play in the space provided. I darent tell them they play on a Furyan graveyard. The small boy clenches a rattle in his hand but the top remained shoved between his lips as his first teeth are beginning to break through his gums.

My arms crossed over my chest to seal in my body heat, faint footsteps travelled up behind me before a large pair of muscular arms gently grazing the top of my shoulders before trailing downwards teasing the skin on my arms with the tips of his fingers to hug me tightly from behind me kissing the nape of my neck. The gold plated band on our fourth fingers clink on impact as our hands touched. Who would have through that in one short year after the downfall of the late Lord Marshall, Richard B. Riddick would be a married man. I certainly did not expect it.

Riddick's warm, bare chest rests against my clothed body, the Necromonger uniform for Lord Marshall's had to be dramatically redesigned but luckily Larissa was up for the task and she came up with something that was rather beautiful, a suit of light weight armour with boots to match, both were decorated in various patterns in odd places to add a female aura to the suit. I preferred to be natural faced for important meetings and gatherings but Larissa insisted on a touch of silvery grey eye-shadow and braiding my hair to keep it from my face giving my a more leadership appearance.

The Necromonger Councillors, the group of males in charge of training and informing new Lord Marshall's about how to do their jobs were more than surprised to teach a women and they even considered changing the title of Lord Marshall to Lord Marshallette but that sounds ridiculous and I hate the idea of the name that identified the last seven leaders of the Necromonger race being changed because of my gender. I offered Riddick to take my place as Marshall but he refused and instead agreed to help as second in command. Due to this arrangement, we are known by the Necromonger population as Lady and Lord Marshall, it makes sense.

The toddler halts before turning to look over at us, his bright green eyes sparkle at us as he waves frantically; we named him Imam, when I first asked why he tells me it was the name of a man that sacrificed his life to save not only his family's life but his as well. Riddick often tells me story about how I would have loved him, wisdom filled and faithful, someone I would have truly found interesting.

Commander Vaako continues to have a certain power amongst the Necromonger community despite our previous deal not going to plan. He frightens me, he is the reason I watch my son like a hawk all day as I continuous worry about him but with my new position as Lord Marshall, great power becomes great responsibility and each Lord Marshall has to take an oath, one both myself and Riddick seemed to forget, safe to say it created a little bit of friction and more than a dozen assassins.

Riddick sleeps in a half hazy state with his curved shiv tucked beneath his pillow, despite frowning upon it, I am no better accept my blade in concealed in a leather pouch to avoid any accidental stabbings, but as I lay awake staring up at the ceiling, tensing at every snore projected by my sons body, every sharp saying of the name Jack from Riddick's mouth and the footsteps echoing from outside in the corridor as the guards on night shift walk around mumbling, I wonder if the real fight is over, or are we frozen waiting for the worst to hit us?

Riddick curls his strong arms around me, pulling me into his body to hold me tight. My son will whimper and before he cries I have already scooped him up and cradled him to my chest before reclaiming my space in front of Riddick. If the worst is still to come I will savour these precious moments, every laugh, gurgle and yell so when the worst does hit us head on, I have even more reason to fight harder and stronger. My family needs me and I them.

So I say bring it on. We are ready. Us Furyans are harder to get rid of than you think.

The End.