Chapter 33: Lex Talionis

King Willard sat alone in his chambers, staring out the open window to the sea. It was dark inside save what illumination the moon provided. A plate of uneaten food sat beside his door, the goblet of wine now a swimming pool for the fruit flies it attracted. His crown lay discarded and dented on the floor. The walls were splattered with wine and marks from swords. Paintings, furniture, and decorations were slashed, smashed, and broken. Everything was unkempt and dusty. It smelled of unclean and wasting. No one had tidied up in weeks because no one was allowed in.

The only thing in a sorrier state than the room was Willard himself. He was not a large or stocky man to begin with, but now he was even thinner than before. His skin was turning sallow, hanging tight on his frame as though the air had been sucked out of him. His face was gaunt, cheekbones sticking out disturbingly far. His eyes were red and glassy, dark circles hanging under them. His salt and pepper hair was as greasy and unkempt as the patchy beard now adorning his face. His clothes stuck to him after three days without changing.

His woeful appearance, however, was nothing compared to how Willard felt. He had not left his room since his son's funeral. Every day since was a trial, even if all he did was sit and stare at the sea between his grief fueled rantings and rampages. Life was no longer a blessed gift but a miserable burden. Something he was forced to endure until he expired. The most menial of tasks became herculean efforts. The finest foods tasted like ash. Wine and mead were no better than saltwater. Music was monotonous. Books were sedative. Gold was dull. Art was meaningless. The affairs of his kingdom were left to his council, whose pleas for his return he ignored again and again. Why would he return when he no longer cared what happened to his country? When he no longer cared what happened to him?

He sighed heavily, watching the ocean shift endlessly under the moon. His son was gone. His dear precious William, his only child, was dead. He did not even have a body to mourn over. People could say what they wanted about him. Willard the Fox King. Willard the shrewd. Willard the suspicious. Willard the selfish and untrustworthy. But he loved his son. He was his greatest treasure. Without William everything was pointless. His rule was pointless. His kingdom was pointless. His hatred of Seahaven was pointless. His existence was pointless. There was no reason to go on. No reason to care what happened to anyone or anything. He would just sit here and waste away to nothing. At least then he could see William.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Go away," he grumbled.

"I've brought you dinner sire," came a female voice. No doubt one of the maids.

"I'm not hungry," he lied. "Leave. And take the lunch with you."

The door creaked open, letting in a shaft of light with the maid's shadow. Instead of fetching his food and leaving she closed the door behind her.

"I said leave," growled Willard.

"But–."

"I won't tell you again. Leave."

"Perhaps you're not hungry for food?"

Willard growled, twisting his head around to see the maid set the food on the table. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair and fair skin. Her face was soft and elegant. Her frame was feminine in all the right places even hidden under the bland maid's dress, from the curve of her hips to the slenderness of her wrists. Surely any man would have his appetites aroused by her.

But it mattered not to Willard. He had no appetites for food or flesh. Beauty was no different from filth to his grief-stricken eyes. He knew what this was. The blasted council sent her to entice him out of this funk. Another of their ploys he wanted no part in.

"There's nothing you can do for me, woman." He turned back to the ocean. "Now get out of my sight."

"That's no way to talk to someone who came to help you!"

Willard shot out his chair so fast he knocked it back, the first real sign of life he had shown for weeks. He turned on the maid, stomping angrily towards her. She backed towards the door, frightened by his advance.

"Are you daft, woman!?" he shouted, foamy spittle flying off his lips. "Get out! I want nothing from a wench like you! Nothing I want from any of you!"

"N-nothing you want from a wench?" The fear melted off her face, replaced with a smug smirk and a treacherous gaze. "Then how about a witch?"

Six black tentacles sprouted from beneath her dress. Before Willard could call out, they stretched across the room and seized him. One wrapped around his mouth as three others bound him tight. His shouts for the guards were reduced to muffled garbles, far too quiet for anyone to hear.

"I'll lock the door so we have some privacy," said the maid as she reached behind her for the key, twisting it in the lock. "There. Just the two of us now. Much more intimate."

Willard's eyes were glued to the maid as she approached him, her appearance changing with every foot. Her dress became slippery black skin melding seamlessly with her tentacles. Her pale human skin became lavender gray as her hair shortened, the browns becoming white and silver. She ran her hands through it, making it stand up as she smacked her now bright red lips.

Willard's eyes widened. He recognized her. It was over twenty years ago, and it was only for a few seconds. But he remembered her as though it were yesterday. How she emerged from the husk that had been Eric's bride-to-be, crawling hand over sucker across the ship to grab Ariel and drag her into the sea. She was not the bulbous lumbering monster from back then, but there was no mistaking that face or that smirk. Or those tentacles.

"Sorry about the gag order, dear," Ursula said, her voice changing as she spoke. "But I don't want the guards interrupting our chat."

"Mmm mmmhr-mmrr!"

"I'm sorry? Did you say something?" She slipped the tentacle off his mouth.

"You're–!"

The tentacle clamped back over his mouth, squeezing painfully on his head. He clenched his eyes tight at the pressure on his skull.

"Tsk-tsk!" scolded Ursula, wagging a tentacle and finger at him. "Inside voices! Now try again, and quieter this time or I'll wring your head like a grape." She removed the tentacle from his face again.

"Ursula!" exclaimed Willard, keeping his voice as low as he could.

The sea witch smiled at him, giving an overdone bow. "In the flesh, your majesty."

Abruptly she threw Willard onto his bed. Immediately he scrambled off the opposite side, bolting for his small sword in the corner. He drew it, spinning around to point the tip at Ursula.

"Oh, puh-lease!" said Ursula, rolling her eyes while waving a dismissive hand. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it by now! Put that thing away before you hurt yourself! You're certainly not going to hurt me with it!"

Willard did no such thing. He ran at Ursula, raising the sword overhead and swinging down hard as he could to split her in half. Ursula raised an arm to block it.

CRANG!

The skin on Ursula's forearm transformed, becoming covered in a hard coral-like material. Willard barely put a chip in the growth, but his sword broke in half. He stepped back, staring at the ruined blade in disbelief.

"As I was saying…" Ursula brushed her arm off as it turned back to skin. "You won't be hurting me with that."

Willard discarded the broken blade and ran to the other side of the room, pulling a broadsword off the wall.

Ursula arched an eyebrow. "Now that might sting a little."

"Give me a reason I shouldn't skewer you right now!" hissed Willard.

"Skewer me? Pffft! That's so twenty years ago!" Ursula glanced over to the fireplace, noticing a pair of armchairs around a chessboard. "Mind if I sit?"

She went to the chair facing Willard, not waiting for his permission as she eased herself into it. "Very nice! I'll have to find one of these for myself. Might've been a tight fit in the past, but as you can see my figure's much more accommodating now." She ran her hands along her waist, emphasizing her slimmer and more youthful physique.

Willard rushed her again, intending to run her through. Ursula merely sighed and grabbed his wrists with a tentacle. She lifted him off the ground with ease, leaving his feet kicking in the air.

"Really, your majesty. There's no need for any of this." Another tentacle reached up and wrapped around the sword's cross guard. Willard held on tight as he could, but she ripped it from his hands like he was a babe, setting it against the arm of the other chair before releasing him. He lost his balance as he landed, falling back on the floor.

"Here's the deal, big boy," said Ursula, smirking down at him as she traced a tentacle along his jawline. "You can go for that sword and try to kill me again, in which case I'll just stick you with it and then call your guards in. They'll find a terribly distressed maid weeping over your body, her feminine charms unable to keep the king from taking his own life."

She clasped her hands together, resting her head against them as she falsely wailed, "Oh, how tragic! The love of a woman unable to mend the king's broken heart! She was simply too late! Woe, woe! Or…" A tentacle gestured to the empty chair. "You can sit down, and we can play a game while we talk business."

Willard remained on the floor. His eyes moved between Ursula and the sword, trying to judge if he could reach it in time. His hands were trembling as he got up, both from fear and hatred.

Then he slowly walked to the chair, eyes never leaving her as he sat. He wrapped a hand around the hit of his sword, but he made no move to turn it on her. He just sat, glaring at her across the board.

Ursula smirked as she reached a tentacle over and turned the board. "I'll take black if you don't mind. It's more my color. Besides, I would never deny a king the first move."

Willard kept watching her in silence. Then his eyes glanced down to the board. He grabbed a knight and moved it out. The game had started.

"Before we get to my reason for coming here." Ursula moved a pawn forward using her tentacle. "Let me give you my condolences for your son."

Willard narrowed his eyes hatefully, his grip on the sword tightening as he moved a pawn of his own.

"William…that was his name, wasn't it?" She moved another pawn, not missing the subtle tightening of Willard's hand. "Handsome boy. I saw his portrait on my way up. Quite the catch, that one. I can see why Melody fell for him. That girl's just like her mother, jumping after the first handsome man she sees out of the water."

"You killed him," said Willard sharply as he moved a bishop out.

"Not exactly." Ursula moved a third pawn. "It was my sister's henchmen who killed him. I never even met the boy. But yes, I suppose he did die because of us. An unfortunate casualty, really."

Willard's knuckles cracked as he wrung the sword hit. "He was not some casualty. He was my son! My only son! And he's dead because of you!"

Ursula sighed, sliding a rook over with her tentacle. "I'm not denying any blame for his death. I'm merely pointing out he wasn't our target. The princess was. We had no reason to want him dead. My sister and I don't go killing people at random." She glanced back at the sea for a moment, a scowl on her face. "Unlike a certain someone I know. We gained nothing from his death. So, believe me when I say what happened to your boy was nothing intentional. Or personal."

Willard said nothing, moving another of his bishops into play. His jaw was clenched tight, fingers still gripping the sword hilt hard as they could. Five more turns passed like that, the silence permeated by Willard's anger and odor. He really needed a bath.

"You know," said Ursula, moving her rook sideways to take one of his pawns. "We're not so different you and I."

"You're nothing like me, witch" replied Willard tersely, taking one of Ursula's pawns.

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

"I've heard plenty about you." He let Ursula move her bishop then moved his own to block it. "You were part of Atlantica's court. You cheated merfolk into becoming your slaves. You were banished. You tried many times to overthrow Triton. You're evil. Just a thieving witch."

"Say what you will about me, but at least I own up to it." Ursula took another pawn. "And I do know something we have in common."

"And what would that be?" Willard said, moving one of his knights out of danger.

Ursula took his other knight. "Revenge on Ariel and Triton."

Willard stopped mid reach for his bishop. Ursula allowed herself a small smirk. She had his attention.

"The only two I want revenge on are you and your sister," said Willard, moving the bishop to take another of her pawns.

"You're welcome to try," said Ursula. "You saw how effective swords are on me. They won't be any better against my little sister, either. But I'm not just talking about revenge here. That's easy enough to get. I'm talking about the root of both our problems."

Willard narrowed his eyes at her, still angry but now also scrutinizing.

"I had a life in Atlantica once," Ursula said, moving her rook out of range of Willard's knight. "A good one too. Then one day I caused a few problems in Triton's court. Had a few of his fish folk that couldn't hold their end of a deal we made. Nothing terribly deceptive about it. My magic has a price, and it had to be paid. But really, banishment to the wilderness as punishment? I thought that was a bit harsh."

She let Willard take another pawn, quickly snatching the offending pawn with her knight. "So I took my magic elsewhere–and a few stinging shots from the trident on the way out. Naturally I wanted to get back at him for the injustice he did me. And I didn't fail at it for lack of trying. I've got more than a few stories about him and his precious daughters getting in my way. Especially Ariel. Ooh, the number of times that sea squirt ruined my plans!"

Willard put Ursula into check. She moved her king to safety, sacrificing her rook in the process.

"But I know an opportunity when I see one," Ursula continued. "Little Ariel wasn't like her sisters. She could barely keep her scales out of trouble for five minutes before she was hips deep in it again. Take it from me, it's a miracle she made it to sixteen without losing a fin. I knew if I kept my eye on her she'd give me the leverage I needed to pull Triton off his throne."

"Get on with it," said Willard, claiming his fourth pawn.

"Patience, your majesty. We'll get to the point soon enough." Ursula slid her queen out of harms way. "Then one day the angelfish rescues a human prince from drowning, and immediately she's smitten. She can't get him out of her head. He's all she thinks about, day after day after day. But you can imagine how daddy Triton felt about her loving a…what was that term he used? Oh yes!"

Ursula's throat shifted as her vocal cords changed to Triton's. "Spineless, savage, harpooning fish-eaters incapable of any feeling!"

If Willard had an opinion about Triton's former feelings for humans or Ursula's change in voice, he chose not to give it. He moved his queen to the center of the board.

"Oh, he broke the poor girl's heart along with her precious collection!" continued Ursula as her voice returned to normal. "Poor little thing was so upset! I just had to help her! So I offered her a way to be with her precious prince. Naturally she couldn't refuse! I got her voice, and off she went to shore on a pair of brand-new legs! All I had to do was wait three days for Triton to take the bait."

She took Willard's other knight with her bishop. "But even without her voice Ariel still threw a conch in my plans. That prince fell for her! He actually fell in love with her! Barely three days and he was already drooling over that mute!"

Willard took Ursula's bishop. His grip on the sword was still there, but it was looser than before.

"In hindsight I could've blackmailed her daddy after she became human and gotten the trident that way. But I made my moves and things went the way they did. Unfortunately, they went the opposite of how I wanted them! Triton got his trident back. Ariel got her prince, her legs, and her happy ending. I got an electrical barbecue on a spit. And you…"

Ursula paused, letting Willard take one of her knights with his queen. She had to admit the man was an excellent chess player. It was a welcome change to play someone other than Morgana for once. She would need to make an effort against him soon.

"You lost plenty in the treaty," she finished.

Willard's eyes flicked up to her for a moment before returning to the board.

"Oh yes, I know all about the treaty," said Ursula as her tentacle moved from piece to piece, debating which one to move. "They really threw you underwater, didn't they? I mean, what use could Triton have for all that ocean aside from cutting into your kingdom's welfare? What did he expect your people to do, start eating plankton and seaweed like merfolk?"

Willard made no response as he took his turn and another pawn.

"So, Ariel and Eric get married, have their honeymoon, and bam! Princess Melody enters the story nine months later!" said Ursula as she took one of Willard's bishops. "In comes my sister to crash the party, as usual. She almost gets the trident, but again Ariel gets in the way and botches it up. She and Eric are so scared they spend twelve years hiding their daughter and the truth behind a wall. But we know how much that child loves the sea. Ariel might be a human, but there's still plenty of mermaid in her. That little girl should've been born with fins instead of legs. And when she finds out her mommy and daddy lied to her all these years, she goes looking for answers. She finds little Morgie, who gives her a taste of the life she's always wanted. All she needs to give her the full course is the trident. And would you believe it, the kid pulls it off! She swims right into Atlantica and steals the thing from under her grandfather's nose!"

She stifled her laugh with a tentacle. "But again, things go wrong! And this time it's the brat's brat that does the wronging. Long story short, Morgana gets turned into a fish-cicle, the wall comes down, everyone's together, happy ever after. Ugh, typical ending!" Ursula rolled her eyes as she put Willard into check.

"You're preaching to the choir," said Willard, moving his king out of the way. "If you've got a point to make then do it before my patience runs out."

"Ah, but this is the best part!" said Ursula as she put Willard back into check. "This is where your son comes into play."

Willard froze mid move, then slowly took out Ursula's bishop with his own. His hold on the broadsword tightened again.

"Truly amazing, isn't it?" said Ursula, keeping a close eye on Willard's sword. "How fast seven years can go by? One day, Melody's dunking William in the punch bowl. The next, they're dancing the night away at her nineteenth birthday. So young! So in love! They had their whole lives ahead of them until…" She took another of Willard's pawns. "Well, I don't need to tell you, do I?"

"Enough!"

Willard grabbed his sword and thrust it at Ursula, stopping at her neck. Ursula held her hands up defensively, staring down at the blade. She could feel the edge scratching on the coral plate that instinctively formed, protecting her throat from impalement. Yet his outburst gave her encouragement. If he meant to stab her, he would have. But instead he threatened her. He was still interested.

"Either you finish up or I finish you off!" Willard warned.

"My point is this…" Ursula nodded towards the board. Willard glared at her for a moment. Then he slowly removed the sword and returned to his seat.

"If it wasn't for Ariel, none of us would be where we are now," said Ursula as Willard moved one of his pawns to her side of the board. "If anyone's to blame for us getting the shallow end of the tide pool, it's her."

"Knight," said Willard curtly. Ursula switched out the pawn, moving her king out of the new piece's range. "I find it hard to believe you consider being alive again the shallow end of anything."

Ursula snorted loudly. "Just because I have a pulse again does not mean I got my life back! Before this I had freedom! I could do whatever I wanted to whoever wanted! Now I'm practically a slave! It's 'Ursula do this' or 'Ursula don't do that' every single day! If I had my way, Ariel and Eric's heads would be decorating by lair right now! Instead I'm kept on a leash like a magic pet! Do you have any idea how aggravating that gets!? Alive indeed! Bah! And you know what would have changed all that?"

"Let me guess." Willard surveyed the board then took out one of her pawns. "If Ariel was out of the picture?"

Ursula smirked, moving a pawn to his side and switching it with a rook. "Exactly! Remove Ariel from the equation and everything that's happened in the last twenty years goes away. Without her, my plans for revenge on Triton don't fail. Even if they do, I keep on living. At best I get the trident and Atlantica for myself. And you keep your boy."

Willard advanced one of his pawns forward. She advanced her last one.

"Without Ariel, Eric never gets rescued from drowning," Ursula continued. "He dies in a storm, leaving Seahaven tragically deprived of a ruler. Even if by some miracle he survives, they never meet. I don't get skewered. Melody is never born. Morgana is never frozen. Neither of us try to get revenge. And your son never sacrifices himself for love."

Ursula pressed a finger to her queen, and it morphed into a miniature of Ariel in her mermaid form. She then touched her king, making the wood transform into a replica of Triton. She then moved her queen forward, right into the path of Willard's own queen.

Willard stared at the board. He had not been anticipating a move like this. But Ursula knew what she was doing. This was deliberate. If he moved to take her queen, she would be in checkmate. No doubt he realized the meaning of her gesture, both in the positioning of the pieces and their transformation. She was casting bait into the water. The question was would he come for it?

She got her answer when Willard slid his piece forward, taking out Ursula's queen. "Checkmate."

She smiled, bringing up a tentacle and knocking over her king. She grabbed it with her hand, holding it up for Willard to see.

"So you see, your majesty," said Ursula as her tentacles began setting up the board again. "We do have something in common. Because of one little mermaid we both lost something we held dear. Something she had no right to take from us."

Willard reached out and took the Ariel piece from the board. He turned it over in his hand, examining the reconfiguration the wood had gone through. Ursula could see the conflicting thoughts tumbling around in his head. He was at the precipice. Now she needed to push him in the right direction. In her direction.

"And that's why I'm here," Ursula said, setting the last piece of the board in its proper place. "I believe we're in a position to help one another."

Willard set the Ariel piece down on the board. He released his sword, interlacing his fingers in front of him. "Hypothetically, say I agree with you. Say I buy into your argument and agree Ariel is the root of my son's death. What do I get in return for cooperating with my boy's murderers?"

Ursula's smile widened. He had not asked what she would do if he refused. He wanted to hear what she had to offer. She picked up the Ariel piece in her tentacle, holding it close to her face. She had done a detailed job transforming it. She could even see the lines on her fins. She really was a pretty little thing. And an aggravating pest.

"First, there's our conditions," said Ursula. "We want you to spy on the Alliance for us."

"Strihaven is no longer part of it," said Willard.

"And I'm sure a heartfelt apology and some diplomatic discussion will get you back in," said Ursula. "When you do, keep us appraised of their activity. Tell us what they know, how they know it, and what they're planning. We'll use the information as we want. Oh, and you pledge your loyalty to our leader."

She picked up the Triton piece in her hand, holding it next to Ariel. "In return, we leave your kingdom untouched. Might get a scrape or two to keep up appearances, but it won't suffer like the rest of them. You keep ruling as you normally would with minimal interference from us. After we've won–."

"If you win," interjected Willard.

"When we win," continued Ursula. She set down Ariel and Triton then picked up the white king. "Your kingdom expands to all territories of the Alliance except Atlantica. You give a quarter of your yearly product to us, and we defend your rule from any opposition inside and out. And I haven't even mentioned the best part."

She wrapped her fingers around the king piece and squeezed hard. It shifted inside her hand, taking on a new form. Her baited hook.

"You get your son back." Ursula opened her hand. The king had become a copy of William.

Willard stiffened immediately at the change. His hand trembled as he took the piece from her, staring at it closely. He turned it around and around, taking in every detail of it. His eyes started to glass over, a finger tracing over the details of his son's face.

The seconds stretched out to minutes without a word. Ursula sat patiently, watching Willard silently pine over the chess piece. She knew it was only a matter of time.

The king's hand closed around the piece. "What proof do I have that you can bring him back?"

Ursula kept herself from smiling like a fool. He took the bait. All she had to do now was set the hook and reel him in. "The proof's right in front of you. I wasn't even a corpse, yet here I am talking with you. It'll be no different with your William. He'll be as alive as the day you last saw him."

She picked up the Ariel and Triton piece into her tentacles. "All you have to do…"

She wrapped her tentacles around the pieces and squeezed. Her skin became as coarse and scaly as sandpaper. The wood cracked and crumbed as it was pulverized, sawdust falling as she ground them up. She kept going until nothing was left, dropping out a pile of splinters and wood pieces onto the board.

"Is help us destroy them."

Knock-knock-knock.

Willard startled at the knocking. His sword started to slide away until he grabbed it.

Knock knock knock.

Ursula nodded to the door. "Well? Shouldn't you answer it? I'd do it myself but…" She gestured to her body. "I'd rather avoid any unnecessary messes."

Willard took the hint. He got up and walked to the door, keeping the sword in his hand. He unlocked the door, opening it enough so he could stick his face through. A young maid stood in front of him, carrying a platter of food in her hands. She looked incredibly nervous, likely startled at seeing her king at the door for the first time in weeks.

"S-Sorry to disturb your majesty," whispered the maid timidly. "But I…I brought you your dinner."

Willard looked down. She had roast pheasant, cheese and bread, along with grapes from the vineyard. A bottle of wine sat on the edge of the platter as well.

He glanced back inside. Ursula was still sitting by the board patiently. She gave him a little teasing wave and smile. If he was going to call the guards, it had to be now. He would not get another chance. From here he might be able to get out the door before she could catch him. Then he could call the guard and have them deal with her.

But that was not what Willard did. He passed the sword behind his back, leaning it against the wall.

"Thank you. That will be all." He took the plate from the maid. She bowed and started to walk away. "Wait."

The maid stopped. "Is there something else you require, your majesty?"

"Have a bath ready for me tomorrow morning," said Willard. "And fetch my barber as well. I'm long overdue for a shave. Have my chambers cleaned out as well."

"Of…of course, your majesty!" The maid bowed again and hurried off, perhaps with more spring in her step than before.

Willard closed the door, locking it again. Then he took the platter and set it on the table beside the board before fetching a pair of goblets from his cupboard.

"If we're going to do business…" He poured wine into one of the goblets and pushed it to Ursula before pouring himself one. "We might as well do it over a drink."

"I like how you think, your majesty." She picked up her goblet with a tentacle and held it out to him. "I take it we have a deal?"

Willard clinked his goblet with hers. "I, King Willard of Strihaven, pledge my full support to your cause."

Ursula smiled widely. "And Maelstrom gladly welcomes you." She lifted the goblet to her lips, sipping in the delightfully fruity alcohol. This was something else she could get used–.

"Ursula."

She sputtered loudly, choking on the wine as the Master's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Something wrong?" asked Willard.

"No! Nothing!" replied Ursula quickly, wiping the wine from her mouth. "Just not used to the taste is all!"

Willard eyed her suspiciously. Then he shrugged and returned his attention to his wine.

Ursula set down her goblet, focusing her thoughts. "I was about to contact you, sir! The dead kid's father and I just reached an agreement! He'll spy for us if–!"

"Spare me the details!" interrupted the Master."Stop enjoying yourself and return immediately! We have a serious problem!"


Richard was not happy.

He followed his guide along the game trail as they lead their horses through the pines, using the moon to light their way. The night was quiet save the plodding of hooves and the wind as it brought the approaching storm. The guide's twin short swords clapped against his back in time to the gate of his steed. A whiff of horse sweat and manure wafted to Richard, making him scowl in disgust. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a perfumed handkerchief, holding it to his nose. He was still getting used to his new senses. Everything was so much more vivid now, both the good and the bad. Which made the journey to his new command that much more miserable.

The sort of treatment he was subjected to since he was all but ejected from a portal in that abandoned Strihaven farmhouse was downright offensive. After picking the straw and chicken dander off, his guide arrived with a horse and a pack. Richard expected a carriage, but there would be no such accommodations. Not for where they were going.

The tall black-haired man barely said a word the entire trip, answering Richard's questions as succinctly as possible and ignoring his orders completely. The only reason Richard had not killed him was because he needed the man to find their destination. That, and the man reported directly to Remora. The journey was uncomfortable to say the least. His saddle had shameful padding. His horse had a terribly jarring gate compared to his prize thoroughbreds. And he was forced to sleep on the ground and eat rabbit on a spit. Him, Lord Richard Avitas, sleeping on the ground and eating varmints like a peasant! He was dirty, sweaty, and stunk as much of horse as he did himself. His first order of business when they arrived would be to have someone draw up a bath.

Not that he thought any of his new subordinates would know a thing about bathing. They were closer to animals than they were humans. Specifically, wolves.

When the Master said Richard would be taking command of all their forces in the Howling Forest, he had not anticipated werewolves among the ranks. The "packs" had been raiding villages and caravans along the eastern borders of the Alliance for the past two years, taking prisoners wherever they could and killing anyone who got in their way. The prisoners were bound in chains and taken to hideouts where they would be sent through prepared portals. From there all paths led to the Factory and inevitable death.

Richard had no compassion for them. They could be fed to Riptide for all he cared. Remora had not been lying when she said Maelstrom could give him all he wanted. He could do so much more now that he was not concerned with the illegality of his actions drawing unwanted attention. He made use of Maelstrom's guards to test his new strength regularly. His quarters were lavishly furnished with items stolen off trade ships and civilians. And if he was ever feeling lonely…well, there were plenty of females to choose from, both human and merfolk. And Ursula seemed to get a kick out of lending him potions to bend the women to his will. Perhaps it was a tad less luxurious than his former life in Seahaven, but the perks of being an outright villain more than made up for it.

He flexed his hands, feeling the raw strength in them as his nails elongated into claws. He smirked, watching as he willed them to return to normal. He was still learning this particular trick, but he could hardly wait for the chance to use it against a real opponent. It would make good practice for when he faced Lara again.

"Camp's ahead," said the guide, pointing ahead. It was the first words he had spoken since sundown.

Richard followed his finger. Sure enough, the flicker of firelight could be seen through the trees. The forest abruptly thinned out into a large grassy clearing. Shapes of tents could be seen between the trees, and he smelled food and wood smoke.

"Finally," muttered Richard grumpily.

Suddenly the guide brought his horse to a stop. "Hold."

"Why are we stopping?" demanded Richard rudely, pulling his horse up alongside.

"It's quiet," said the guide.

"So what?"

The guide said nothing, only gesturing for Richard to listen. He was tempted to skewer the man for his curtness, but he decided to humor him. He would see to it he paid for his manners later.

However, as he listened, Richard realized the guide was right. It was far too quiet. This close to camp they should be able to hear something. Talking, shouting, snoring, screaming, weapons being sharpened, prisoners suffering abuse–indications of life. These were bandits after all, and they were quick to celebrate after a raid. Yet he only heard the crackle of the fires. Something was off.

Richard dismounted, drawing his rapier. The guide followed, drawing his twin short swords and falling in step behind. Quietly they stalked towards the camp. Tree by tree they moved closer, using the shadows to get right to the edge of the clearing. The trees abruptly gave way to a grassy meadow, the yellowing blades trampled flat by many feet.

The camp was empty. Tents were set up and bedrolls laid out. The fires were stoked for the night, stacks of cut logs nearby for when the flames were low. Several lengths of chain were locked between pairs of trees, no doubt where the captives had been tied. There was not a single body to be seen.

Richard spun around and grabbed the guide by the front of his shirt, pulling him in close. "Is this your idea of a joke!?"

"Does it look like one?" hissed the guide, narrowing his eyes angrily.

"Then where is everyone!?" Richard spat, giving the man a shake. "There's supposed to be over a hundred men–!"

"Werewolves."

"Shut it! There's no one here! Even your prisoners are gone!"

"Maybe something drove them out?"

Richard hammered the pommel of his rapier on the man's head and shoved him away. The man lay on his back clutching his crown, massaging the growing egg.

"Idiot!" spat Richard. "You expect me to believe something scared them off!? They're werewolves, not feral dogs! Get up, shut up, and stay behind me!"

Richard strode out into the clearing, rapier at the ready. The guide followed close on his heels, still rubbing his aching head as he went. They moved slowly towards the prisoner's chains, alert for any indication of trouble.

But the further they went into the camp the more unnerved Richard became. It was not just abandoned. It was abandoned recently. The pots still had food in them, now starting to boil over. Knives and swords lay discarded beside half eaten bowls, some of them still hot and steaming. Boots were left outside tents with partly drawn blades. Even a game of cards had been left, the hands now scattered around the pile of coins in the middle. It was as though everyone vanished.

"I don't like this…" said the guide nervously.

"Quiet," hissed Richard, trying not to let his own anxiety show. "Keep your eyes open."

They made their way to the chains. Richard could still see the impressions in the grass where the prisoners had slept. He pressed a hand to one, feeling the warmth left by a living body. He picked up a pair of manacles. They had been opened without force. He picked up another pair. Open as well. And the next, and the next.

"Well, I think it's obvious what happened here," said Richard.

"It is?" said the guide, not seeing anything about the situation that was remotely obvious.

"Yes. These canines all went raiding and didn't think to leave anyone to watch the prisoners. One of them must've gotten ahold of something and picked the locks, then they just went…down the…line…and…"

Richard swallowed nervously, noticing how quiet it had gotten. Slowly he turned around, praying the guide was just staying silent.

The guide was still with him. His head, however, was gone. He toppled back into the grass, swords slipping from his hands.

A child's giggle pierced through the night like an arrow. Richard spun to the forest, sword at the ready. Was he imagining things? He had heard that, right?

A breeze tickled his neck as the giggling sounded again, causing Richard to spin around. The giggling came again from the opposite side of the meadow. He thought he saw a shadow run through the trees. He suddenly realized the guide's body had vanished without a trace. The only thing left of him was his swords. There was not even a drop of blood in the grass.

The giggling repeated, this time from a tent right in front of Richard. He grabbed one of the discarded short swords and ran at the tent, skewering his rapier through the fabric and then flinging the tent away. He revealed a pair of empty bedrolls, dented tin cups and bowls, and crumpled clothing, but no source for the sound. He backed away as the giggling returned, turning quickly as he scanned across the camp for its source.

"You mangy dogs!" he shouted. He had to shout, otherwise they would hear the tremor in his voice. "Get out here! As your commander, I order you to come out!"

The childish giggling sounded all around now, moving from spot to spot with impossible speed. It was behind him. Then in front. Now in the treetops. Now on the ground. Now on his left. Now on his right. It danced around in disarray, as frightening as it was mocking.

"Stop it!" Richard shouted, his fear starting to show through. "Stop it right now! I command you to show yourself!"

"Okay."

Richard froze. That came from right behind him.

He spun on his heels, slashing as hard as he could for the person's head. He did not care if it was the enemy or not. If it was they would be dead. If not…well, it was what they deserved for sneaking up on him.

The short sword missed his foe completely, swinging wide across. His rapier, however, struck their neck. Richard felt as though he struck a rock, a jarring shock traveling through his entire arm as the sword broke in half.

Before him was a child. A little girl with long white hair, twin-slit teal eyes, and black wispy tendrils snaking out under her dress.

"Hi!" said the girl sweetly, giving him a wriggling wave with her fingers.

Another benefit of Richard's new abilities was a sharpening of his instincts. At one time he disregarded them, but as of late they were becoming increasingly useful. And right then they were yelling at him to kill this girl if he wanted to stay alive.

He took the short sword in both hands and swung with all his might at her neck again. His muscles ached with how hard he swung, far surpassing mere mortal strength. The girl raised a finger at the last moment, as though offering it for him to remove.

Instead of amputating her finger the sword glanced off, leaving her skin completely unharmed. She did not even flinch when he swung back, only to have her catch it between her fingers. She twisted sharply and the blade snapped in two.

She wagged her finger at Richard, her smile turning into a smirk. "You'll need more than that to hurt me."

Every nerve in Richard's body screamed for him to run, and he chose to listen. He bolted away from her, snatching a broadsword resting by a fire. He hefted it and spun back, pointing the tip straight at her. Sweat ran down his nose, his legs shaking as violently as his hands.

The girl giggled. It was the same sound that tormented him from the shadows. Her teal eyes flashed as she licked her lips, her pointed tongue as black as ink. "Leaving so soon? Why don't you stay a while?"

One by one, tall figures in black hoods emerged from the shadows around the clearing. Red glowing eyes stared out from behind white masks as they glided into the light, moving without a sound. More appeared in the trees, standing like red-eyed owls among the branches.

The girl smiled impossibly wide, revealing pointed white teeth. "We've been dyingto meet you."

Richard was sweating bullets. He remembered these things just as he remembered this girl. He watched them tear apart that skinner like it was paper. And this girl mortally wounded it faster than he could see. He spun around frantically, hoping he would find an opening he could escape through somewhere. But the monsters had him completely surrounded.

His men were as dead as his guide. He knew that now. These creatures killed them before they could even sound an alarm. He had to change, and he had to do it fast. If not, they would kill him too.

He focused his thoughts, willing the transformation to happen with all haste. The burn started as his bones contorted and reformed, muscles growing and shifting while organs shifted. His face felt like it was on fire as it grew out, his fingernails becoming–.

The girl's hair lifted with a will of its own, twining together into spear-like tendrils. Faster than Richard could see they pierced him all over his body. Searing pain exploded inside him. He screamed as he forgot everything else, his body shifting back to its human form. He tried to move his arms and legs, but the tendrils suddenly bulged inside him. He howled in pain, immediately stopping his resistance.

The girl frowned at him, folding her arms disappointedly. "Wow, you're really…really…well, weak."

The tendrils left Richard so quickly he hung in the air for a moment. He saw the girl vanish before something struck him in the chest, sending him flying across the clearing. He tumbled through the air before slamming back first into a thick pine, bouncing off into the duff. He slowly pushed himself up, his spine and chest alight with pain and blood in his mouth.

"I thought you might be interesting since you gave Lara all that trouble at the tournament…"

Richard forgot about the pain when he looked up. The girl was right in front of him, looking down with a bored expression. She regarded him as though he were an old toy, its entertainment value depleted long ago.

"But I think that was her making it interesting for herself," she said, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

"The only thing interesting about this pup is his arrogance."

Richard froze. He knew that voice, too.

From behind a tree emerged a familiar blonde lancer dressed in a long green coat. A familiar hooded figure in a red hemmed cloak followed in his steps as well. He could see the mark across its mask.

"You!" shouted Richard, as startled as he was confused to see the man. "Matthias!"

Matthias frowned at Richard. "A displeasure to see you again, Lord Richard. A true displeasure."

Richard snarled, his fingernails turning into claws. He darted past the girl and leapt, intent on ripping the man's throat out. His feet barely left the dirt before a tendril burst through the hooded figure's cloak and seized his ankle, whipping him against a tree. His head smacked against a branch, dazing him.

"Soften him up a bit, will you?" said the girl.

The hooded figure sent forth more tendrils, taking Richard by both his ankles and slamming him into another tree. It whipped him back and forth several times before pinning him to the ground, binding his hands behind his back. Even though Richard's new body was tough he still felt pain, and now he was in an excruciating amount of it.

"Ah, that's right. You're just Richard now," continued Matthias, pulling a wanted poster out of his jacket and holding it in front of Richard's face. "King Eric branded you a traitor to the crown. Your entire estate has been seized to pay back what you've stolen over the years."

Richard's eyes widened. "They did wha–urk!"

The queen walked over Richard's back, standing on his neck to read. "Wanted for crimes against the crown and people of Seahaven, including treason, theft, blackmail, assault, arson, blah blah blah…reward of three thousand gold coins alive! A thousand dead! Wow! That Eric must really be mad! I'd have taken a zero off that bounty!"

She arched over Richard's head, looking at him upside down. "At least they got your nose right. Not like that Flynn character that's been running around these parts. He's got…" She turned to the hooded figure. "How many noses it is now?"

"Thirty-four," said the hooded figure.

"Get off me, you puny freak!" snarled Richard as he fought against his restraints.

"Hmmm…no." The girl smirked at him, wiggling his nose with her finger as she ground her heel into his neck. "I don't feel like it! And I don't…like…you!"

"You little–!" Richard's teeth suddenly became sharp as he bit her finger, clamping down as hard as he could. See how well she poked his nose when he bit it off! Except all he did was make his jaw ache. Her finger was like an iron rod. What in the world was her skin made of?

The girl sighed, unamused by his gnawing. "Matthias, if you please."

Matthias nodded, moving to Richard's legs. Suddenly he jabbed his fingertips into Richard's right calf. Stabbing pain erupted when he struck, as though knives had been driven through him. Richard hollered, releasing the girl's finger.

"That wasn't very nice," said the girl, wiping her fingers on her dress as she used Richard's head to step off him. "Or smart."

Matthias twisted his hand around, making Richard cry out again. He had definitely been stabbed. He could feel something twisting between the bones of his shin.

He looked back to see Matthias pull foot long claws like filet knives out of his leg.

If Richard could have seen his own face, he would have seen most of the color drain away. "You…you're one of them!"

The hooded figure squeezed Richard painfully, making his ribs and spine pop. The air was forced out of his lungs, reducing him to short rapid breaths.

"Matthias, as you know him, is one of my most talented children," said the girl as the skinner walked to her side. "Almost a hundred years old, and faithful for every one of them. As for who that skin belonged to, I'll let him tell that."

The skinner knelt before Richard, its eyes turning black as its claws retracted. "I took this skin eight months ago," it said, copying Richard's own voice perfectly. "It belonged to one of your group's servants. Packs this size might be able to hide from humans in these woods, but to us they were begging for our notice. Mother felt like keeping an eye on them, so she sent me in. It was easy to pick one off. A drinking habit makes for easy marks."

"And you smelled like booze for weeks after," said the girl, cricking her neck. "Well, that's enough light conversation. Time to get down to business. Hold him still."

The skinner abruptly jumped onto Richard's back, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up. Richard started to resist when he felt the razor-sharp claws press against his throat, already cutting into his skin.

The girl looked down at him. "I bet you've already figured this out, but all the werewolves here are dead. We devoured every last scrap of them before you arrived. As for the captives, we knocked them out and dropped them at the nearest road. They won't remember a thing about us. Which leaves one question…"

She crouched down in front of Richard, grabbing his chin and lifting it towards her. The skinner's claws cut deeper into his neck. "What do I do with you?"

Richard swallowed hard. He thought about offering to tell her everything he knew about Maelstrom, but knew that would be as good as a death sentence. Not from this creature, but from his "comrades" when they found out. He could not fight her off with this sort of inhuman force surrounding them. They would tear him to shreds in seconds. He could feel the strength in her hand from her grip. She could kill him before he realized it.

The girl smirked. "Don't be so nervous! I won't kill you! But I'm not going to just let you go either. You're going to deliver a message for me."

The moon's light began to fade. The campfires went out at once, smothered by some unseen force. The girl's hair became wilder, her features losing their innocence as they became sinister and predatory. Richard felt his skin tingling, as though he were about to be struck by lightning. He was having trouble breathing the air was so thick.

The girl placed her hand on his head as she stared into his eyes. "This is going to hurt."

When she spoke it was not with her voice. It was her thoughts he heard. No, not heard but thought. She was inside his mind. Her words seeped into him like ink spilled into a bath, spreading through his psyche. His mind was corroded as her will drilled its way into his conscience like shipworms into wood. He wanted to scream it was so terrible. He was being shattered apart before coming back together, only to repeat the cycle again and again. He thought he was dying a hundred times over as this primordial being of shadow and death hijacked his mind. He could feel her as she truly was. Not innocent and childlike, but monstrous and terrible. She was beyond him. Beyond Lara. Beyond everyone. An ancient aberration from an era before history, filled with secrets and wrath he could not fathom. And hunger. A deep, bottomless hunger threatening to swallow him whole as she seared herself into his mind.

"I know you can hear me, sorcerer! Listen well. Thanks to you and my traitorous youngling, our existence has been made known on an unforgivable scale. On top of that, the apostate spilled unmarked blood at your orders. He broke our creed and was punished for it. Tonight, it is your turn. We will break your forces, so you will all know what it means to cross the Children of the Shade. You may be safe from the humans and merfolk in the shadows, but we were there long before you. We have tracked your movements. We know your spies, your soldiers, and your hideouts in these lands. And now you will lose them."

A terrible scream tore through the night. Richard thought it was his own voice but realized he was not breathing anymore. He wanted to breathe but could not remember how. The screaming continued until it was abruptly cut off.

"You hear that? That is the sound of our retribution. We are reaping your agents from the Alliance. Every single one of them. Before dawn there won't be a trace left. No one will remember they even existed."

Richard would have felt surprise if he still had a conscience to feel emotions with. He felt like his being was coming apart at the seams.

"This is only a warning. We have no interest in meddling with you, the humans, or the merfolk. If you do not provoke us again, we will leave you all be. We will take our knowledge of you into the dark and leave you to your bloody conquest. But conscript one of us into your ranks again, or divulge our existence any further…"

The presence in Richard's mind became sharp as a razor, cutting and slashing into him. It was indescribably agony to feel his conscience being mauled like this.

"Then I promise it will be your end!"

The girl released Richard, withdrawing herself from him like wrenching a saw blade from a wound. He lay quivering on the ground, unable to stop shaking. Saliva drooled out his mouth as he gasped, unable to close it or swallow. He felt violated, defiled beyond imagining as his mind was left broken by her intrusion. The red hemmed figure had released him. He was in no condition to escape, much less fight.

He saw the girl wipe her hands on her dress as she looked to the red hemmed figure. "Time to make good on our threat."

Threads of shadow consumed the girl, entombing her in a sinuating twisting mass of tendrils. They writhed and wriggled for a second before abruptly retreating. The girl was gone, replaced by a fair slender woman with skin as pale as moonlight. She was garbed in a dress as flowing and white as her hair, the strands reaching down to her feet. Her eyes had not changed, nor had her teeth as she addressed the figures around them. She had the same terrible beauty as a ghost, as though she were a bride and Death the groom.

"This is my command!" she shouted, drawing an arm across and then sweeping it wide. "Kill them! Search every forest, every town, every street and home, and wipe them out! Devour every last one you find! Leave not even memories in your wake! Remind these fools who the shadows belong to! Show them what it means to fear the dark!"

"As you wish," said the figures as one, bowing to her as they retreated into the shadows, red eyes lingering before going out. Matthias stepped off Richard and followed after the red hemmed one, the two entering the dark and vanishing.

The woman turned back to the drooling mess that was once Richard. "As for you, Richard Avitas…"

He wanted to run. He wanted to crawl on all fours into a hole and stay there forever. He begged and pleaded for his body to move, but it only twitched involuntarily. He tried to swallow and failed, coughing and hacking to avoid choking.

The woman crouched in front of him, tilting her head over as she smiled. "Oh, you poor little human. Was I too rough for your fist time?" She brushed a finger over his cheek. He tried to scream, but he had no idea how to speak anymore. "Since you'll have nothing better to do than lay there and drool the rest of your life, I'll give you some advice before I join the hunt. About Lara Anclagon."

A spark of hatred blossomed in Richard, giving him enough will to attempt a scowl at her.

"If you want to live a long life, you'll give up on her," the woman said. "Stay with this Maelstrom if you want, but forget about revenge. You think you know her strength, but you don't know anything. You don't know who she is. You don't know what she can do. It doesn't matter who or what you become. You weren't a threat to her in the tournament. You're not a threat to her now. You never will be. Go at her again and she'll kill you."

She brought her face close to his, transfixing him with those terrible inhuman eyes. "If anyone's going to have another go at that girl, it's me. We have a score to settle, so I want her alive till she's ready. If you still intend to kill her, then go ahead and try. But you better be ready to take her place, because I won't be denied my fight. Not by you, your leader, or anyone else. And one more thing. This one's for your boss."

The woman's hair writhed as a black aura appeared around her. The clearing went darker still, the light quashed under the weight of her presence. The dim made her glowing teal eyes brighter, the four slit pupils fixed on Richard.

"If one of you does manage to kill Lara, be ready to die," she said, her voice echoing and dark. "Because none of you will survive what follows."

Before Richard realized it, the woman was gone. She disappeared right in front of his eyes. The forest was quiet again. The moonlight returned, illuminating the empty clearing.

A scent of blood carried on the wind. Richard could smell it getting stronger, saturating the air. He tried to move but managed no better than twitching his finger. He watched the shadows moving at the edge of his sight. Daylight could not come soon enough.


A/N: Amidst his grief, Willard has turned to darkness and promises of a sea witch for resolution. The first land has fallen to Maelstrom with nary a shot fired in erecting the faction's bloody banner. But the darkness will not spread without bloodshed. The Children of the Shade will not suffer the meddling of any, and those who dare will pay for it in lives. But the storm has not run its course just yet. The clouds have yet to loose the lightning, and its thunder will carry father and louder than all others.

Hope everyone is enjoying the story! Please favorite if you like it, and follow if you want to know what happens next!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," Disney, or any of its associated characters and intellectual property. Everything else, however, is mine =)