The head fell to the floor, bouncing slightly on the red carpet, and rolling a few times before Plitora placed her foot atop a cheek. Pressing some of her weight on it, she smiled as the pretty face began to bulge out.
Eventually, she turned her attention to the body. It was slumped across the floor, body twisted slightly at the waist, as if she’d collapsed mid turn. Her arms were splayed to either side, hanging loosely now that she had died, but her right hand still clutched a glowing metal sword. Iron, if Plitora had to guess; enchanted, most certainly, to cut through magic.
A wonderful attempt at taking her life, truly. She shook her head side to side at the foolishness of it, but still smiled with pride as she wiped a blonde hair from her brow. They had finally sent a woman to depose their ruler, instead of a man. That meant they were at last listening to the prophecy, that stated it would be a woman who at last deposed their immortal queen.
That… or they’d finally ran out of men foolish enough to take the job. Plitora doubted that, though: there were always men foolish enough. For anything. No, it seemed at last that her people were ready to accept a female hero into their midsts. Not that this had been the one prophesied, of course, but still - the effort meant a lot to Plitora. She’d even quite liked this hero. It was only that they weren’t quite fit for the job of killing her.
The trembling voice of a servant tugged Plitora from her thoughts, as a maid whispered “Your blade, my queen?”
Her blade indeed. She flicked her eyes across the silver length of it, its sheen marred by the woman’s blood. Margaret, the ruler recalled. She’d shouted something about avenging her family, before trying to slice Plitora’s head off. Also a valiant effort, though it only would have grown back. Or would her body have grown back from the head? It had been so many centuries since she had chopped her head off, she couldn’t remember which way it worked anymore….. Plitora stared up at the dangling chandelier, which was currently reflecting light off the crystals that hung in cascades from the ceiling. She wondered vaguely which option would be preferable, and whether she should experiment at some point.
“My queen?” the maid repeated, voice another octave higher. Plitora’s icey eyes turned to the maid’s own muddled brown gaze. She didn’t recognize this one, off the top of her head. She must be new. She didn’t know better, yet, but Plitora didn’t like being pulled from her thoughts before she was ready. It was actually a killable offense - and being new meant the staff would get a good taste of fear, without too much grief to bog them down. She slowly raised her sword, moving toward the maid, whose body was now trembling to match her voice.
The woman’s clothes were black and white, a soft lace choker at her neck, with drawstrings to either side. In case Plitora ever decided to strangle her maid slowly and softly. The black dress had slender sleeves that clung to her shoulders, and a full bodice that heaved in fright now that Plitora was walking toward her. The skirts that pooled around her thighs stopped right at the knee, and couldn’t hide the way her legs were trembling. The poor thing almost took a step back, then stopped when she realized her back was already pressed against the wall. She’d been waiting there for Plitora to give up her sword, prior to angering her queen.
The blonde’s sword an inch away from the other woman’s neck, Plitora paused. While her brown eyes were dull, she hadn’t noticed the maid had sweet blonde hair that matched the queen’s in length and color… and the way she trembled pleased Plitora. The things she could do with a beautiful figure like that…. She smiled, as she wiped the blood of the slain hero across the white apron of her maid. Assuming she could convince her servant to see things her way. “Take the body outside,” she commanded. “Then come to my bed chambers for a private talking to about your behavior. In the meantime, I have other business to attend to.”
Plitora watched the younger woman, cheeks pale and stomach no doubt close to heaving, as she bent down to take the head in her arms. Despite her obvious fear, she took a hold of the severed body part and placed it carefully beneath her left arm. Then she grasped hold of the body, and began to tug it out of the room, and toward a window - where she’d no doubt toss it out into the moat, for the crocodiles. It would take her a little to reach a window, from the slow way she was tugging that form, and Plitora hopefully wouldn’t be leaving her to roam free for very long. Still, she took a moment to just adore the way that woman’s breasts heaved and strained against too tight fabric of her dress, before forcing herself out of the room.
Beyond the dueling room, the carpets stopped being red, shifting instead to a soft blue that matched Plitora’s own nightgown - she rather liked the way her clothes looked, blending with the floor so that she seemed to be simply gliding along the surface of the floors. She also of course admired the cleavage that she was showing, her pale breasts on display. They would be visible for the maid, later, even before she stripped the cloth as a display of power and put her own young body on display. The price of immortality was apparently forever looking twenty-five.
No matter. She walked across her blue carpets, until they began to darken, slowly turning from the cheerful blue to a simple, elegant black. A perfect lack of color that encompassed not only the soft carpet, but the stone walls and even the roof of this room, absorbing all light and color so that her light skin and blue nightgown seemed nothing but intruders who had barged into this colorless place.
Yet amid the darkness was a single orb of light, floating perfectly in the stillness. She smiled as she approached it, slowly licking her ruby red lips as she approached the singular point of light. The precious orb, used by generations of rulers to spy across the entire land, to send help and support wherever it was needed.
Of course, she’d killed all those goody-two shoes a few… centuries? Centuries ago. Now Plitora used the orb to spy on the resistance, who’s spies had surely spotted the tossing of their poor hero out the window. The men, as suspected, were gathered in a tent, heads bent forward as they whispered among themselves. THh orb had no sound, but Plitora could easily interpret the smug looks that graced one or two of the old white faces. They were saying it had been a mistake to listen to the prophecy - that sending a woman had been an error. Well, perhaps their disbelief wasn’t entirely without reason. The prophecy had come from Plitora’s own hand, after all. But she’d assured them it was quite accurate… such suspicious fools. She placed her finger on the light orb, creating a light dimple on the surface of the world. None of the men noticed the change in atmosphere as she shifted the orbs attention away from their precious tent of plotting, to where her favorite rebel was doing some actual actions.
The blonde haired beauty with her sparkling blue eyes was marching up a hill. Her little… .friend with her. A dark haired man, with dark brown eyes and darkened skin. She didn’t quite like that her favorite hung with him, any “him”, but at least this one was fairly harmless, she supposed. Like her and her favorite, he seemed to enjoy the taste of his own gender. Meaning he wouldn’t be sinking his claws into the pretty beauty she admired.
As for the beautiful Lonna, Plitora was pleased to see she was holding a simple scroll of parchment in her hands as she marched purposefully toward the hill’s craft, her little man friend trailing behind her with obvious protests on his lips. Lonna had broken into her castle two weeks ago for that scroll, thinking she was so bright as she slipped past guards who’d been told to look away. She’d even killed one or two, who had been caught off guard and accidentally seen her… Such a brutal thing, but that was what made her Plitora’s favorite.
Lonna had snuck her way into the library, using her power over light to hide in shadows and stealing her way on cutesy little tip toes, traveling through stacks of books and trying to grab whatever she could. Until she’d come across the scroll, delicately held in the metal claws of a decorative demon. It’s red mouth open wide, rubies making up eyes that sparkled at her, and four fingered hands curled delicately over ancient parchment. Lonna hadn’t even known what it would do, but when the guards began to raise a shout, she’d dropped every book and grabbed the scroll, stuffing it into the waistband of her britches.
The blonde looked at first for a window, some way of plunging outside even despite there being two stories. There were no windows in the library, though, the only light coming from the magic lit lamps, who’s fire could never spill out to the vulnerable books. Lonna took a deep breath, and ran instead toward the door. No guards, despite the shout - Plitora had quite carefully instructed the majority of them to be elsewhere, but had placed only two in the hallways where Lonna could run into them.
The first was an idiot by the name of Jared. A light skinned man with an easy smile, he was actually somewhat drunk even as Lonna approached him. No spouse, no children, no real relatives that would miss his disappearance, Plitora had been plotting to do something with him ever since he started drinking on the job to deal with the pressures of guarding a despot queen.
The second was named Richard. A loving man, he and his husband had just adopted two baby girls, using the money they’d scraped together to buy a small home where they could raise their children, and escape Plitora’s services. The queen approved of it, actually, and would be sure to fund the raising of those two girls until they were old enough to be of interest. Their father was quite terrible at his job, though, always distracted with thoughts of his husband.
Both men’s necks had been cut by Lonna’s dagger, neither seeing more than a blur of light, both slumping to the floor in almost identical heaps. So much more useful in death than they’d been in life. And now…? Now her little murderer was practically dancing her way up the hilltop, stolen goods in her hands, and a smile on her lips as she gestured for her friend to follow.
“Come on, Talith!” Lonna called, lips spread into a fierce grin, that showed off her flashing white teeth. “The scroll says we need to cast it under the moonlight, so try to get a move on before dawn.”
“Hmph.” Talith’s next step was a stomp, the unfortunate grass beneath being ground beneath his feet. “You mean the secret scroll. That you secretly stole. From the queen’s own library. Without permission.”
“Hence it being a secret, yes. I think we covered that,” Lonna rolled her eyes slightly at her friend’s reluctance. He was always the suspicious sort, but she had more of a… practical viewpoint. She’d risked her life to steal it, it practically belonged to her now, and she had practically gotten to the point of casting it - so they should just hurry up and cast it. Practically speaking. “Just hurry up and help me reach the summit, okay?”
The spell was very specific, which was of course how you knew it was a good spell. It had to be cast on the third night of the month, under the light of the moon. Talith wasn’t actually a necessary component of the spell, since it could only be cast by a woman, but he had of course insisted on coming along - and nothing in the spell specifically ruled against an audience. Though she thought she’d have him sit a little aside, just in case.
The spell itself was simple enough. It required unraveling the scroll, whispering a few words, and picturing the perfect hero, who would appear as she believed. Which honestly sounded a little bit bogus, but if a magic spell wanted to provide her with the perfect babe warrior, with brown hair and green eyes, tanned skin and toned limbs - she wasn’t one to argue about it. She just hoped the hero she was imagining was one that really existed.