Chapter 13 #2
“Negotiate.” Valroy laughed. “I was not designed to negotiate! And do you believe these animals, these cretins, would speak with us?” He gestured down the hill at the fortifications.
“Even if we were to set aside my very nature, my singular goal since before I was born, that which burns within my soul, then consider this: humans will not live in peace. They cannot. It is not in their nature. They must trample, blaze, and claim dominion over all in their path. Do you deny this?”
“The humans aren't a monolith,” Izael protested. “Some of them, such as our own wives, prove the exceptions to your argument.”
“Yes. Some prove useful companions. Pets.” He gestured his hand dismissively.
“Some even worthy of ascension to our race. If any can very quickly prove their value, I suppose that is fine. Let the miracles occur on a case-by-case basis. But I think the time for that has come to a close.” Turning to look down at the defensive structure, he chuckled.
“And yes, they are scared. In this moment, they are likely more than eager to coexist. For now. Until the next crisis, the next resource shortage—or until the next moment when our alliance becomes inconvenient or unnecessary.” He spread his wings, casting shadows in the fading light, dark against growing twilight.
“You think like a Seelie, Izael. You think in terms of balance and harmony and pretty little compromises that make everyone feel better about themselves. Endeavor to remember that we are predator. Not prey.”
He gestured toward the human outpost, where searchlights were beginning to sweep the gathering darkness.
“Look at them. Even now, even faced with powers they can barely comprehend, they're preparing to fight.
Not to negotiate, not to surrender, but to kill.
Because that's what humans do—they destroy what they don't understand, and they understand very little indeed. I plan to fulfill the single purpose for which I was created. To destroy them all—to render Earth to ash and to bring the Seelie to heel. The rest of this argument, to be frank, is to provide you peace of mind. As I would prefer you stand with me rather than against me.”
He glowered down at the human settlement. “I do not care whether you wish to join me simply for the joy of death or to protect our kind from theirs.” He refocused his ire directly onto Izael. “The question simply remains whether you wish to kill them, or be killed with them.”
The threat wasn't subtle, and it wasn't meant to be.
Around them, Valroy's forces stirred restlessly, their loyalty to their king warring with whatever respect they might have held for Izael.
The younger fae had influence among certain factions of their people—his loss would be regrettable, but his betrayal would be catastrophic.
“Boss, I swore an oath to serve the crown,” Izael’s voice was steady despite the circumstances. “I will honor that oath. We’ve been through this once. I promised that was it, and I’m keeping that promise.”
“How wonderfully ambiguous.” Valroy smiled.
“‘To the crown,’ you say. Not to me. For someone so blithe, so eager to run your mouth, your sudden regard for politics makes all of this conversation wonderfully suspicious, Izael.” He began to pace again, his movements casual despite the tension crackling through the air.
“Of course, one might argue that in my dear wife's absence, I am the crown. The sole legitimate authority in our fractured little kingdom.”
“You say she is absent. Some might say you are merely taking action without waiting for Queen Abigail to speak.” The Duke smirked. Izael’s steely backbone was to be respected. If it weren’t so blastedly annoying when he chose to employ it.
With a sigh, Valroy cracked his neck to one side, then the other. It was Izael’s only warning of danger, before they were both several feet away, with Valroy’s hand wrapped around Izael’s throat, lifting the duke several feet off the ground with casual ease.
Around them, weapons drew from sheaths as both sides prepared for violence.
Fascinating.
Izael had not come unprepared.
Valroy grinned. “Treason? I love it.”
“Not treason,” Izael coughed. “Just a…a request for more time, King Valroy.”
“Time! Time for what?” Valroy barked a laugh.
“Time is all that I have given! Time is all that I have suffered! Time is all that I have endured, waiting for this exact moment! Waiting for the chance to finally, finally, be free to act upon my true purpose. And now you want me to delay to…what? Provide you yet another chance to stop my war?” He tightened his grip on Izael’s throat, just enough to make the snake-shifter gag.
Izael's hands came up to grip Valroy's wrist, but he made no move to break free. His teal eyes met Valroy's through the pain. “This—this isn’t right—and you know it—”
“Right?” Valroy tilted his head, studying Izael with curiosity for the first time. “Whoever said anything about this being righteous, Izael? You cling to abstract concepts like truth and honor even when they serve no practical purpose. Even when they place you in mortal danger.”
He dropped the duke to the ground. Izael staggered back, coughing, but stayed upright.
Valroy watched the other man with waning interest. Never had he felt himself so keenly in need of Anfar’s presence.
But the sea-beast was securing the oceans, which was his right.
“I will ask this once, and only once, Duke of Bones. Do you stand with me or against me? I will not have you changing your mind. And I will not have traitors standing at my back. The void knows I have dealt with that plenty enough.” He jerked his head toward Bayodan.
Izael rubbed his tattooed throat where Valroy’s claws had left shallow cuts.
“My loyalty lies with protecting our people from choices that will get them killed. Your war will damn the Unseelie, once and for all. What manner of life will we have after this? How do you think we exist once your war concludes?”
“I see.” He smirked. “That is what this is about. You worry for the future of the Unseelie.”
“Of course I do.” Izael grimaced. “When you have murdered everyone, and you sit on a throne of ash and charred bone, what will be left for us? What kind of world—worlds—are we going to rule over?” He tugged on the bottom of his suit in an attempt to straighten the wrinkles.
He insisted on dressing in the garb of a human from some eighty years prior.
“What manner of happiness is to be picked from the rubble of your war?”
Valroy smiled with all the patience of a parent watching his child learn of the existence of death for the first time. “How charming that you think that is the point of this. None, Izael. None at all.”
Izael blinked, stunned. “What?”
“I do not care what happens to us once these worlds burn, Duke of Bones. I do not care what becomes of the Unseelie once my war concludes. And I never have.” Valroy chuckled, enjoying the sheer disbelief on the duke’s face.
“It has never been my goal to establish some manner of…dark utopia.” He gestured aimlessly.
“The humans deserve our wrath. The Seelie must be brought low, as they stand in our way. But have I ever once laid claim to any other desire besides that for the war itself? No. So speak not to me of damnation.” He snorted, shaking his head.
“Your argument falls upon deaf ears. Oblivion is my goal.”
“You will lose the support of the others.” Izael’s growing horror was delectable. “They will never support you in this regard once they learn you plan to abandon them to a world left in ruin once you are done.”
“Are you so certain of that?” Valroy stepped closer to him. “Creatures such as I, such as they, we care nothing for what follows. Only for the destruction we wreak. Only for the hatred we are allowed to act upon.”
“You’re wrong.” But the snake suddenly did not seem so sure of himself.
Turning to address the gathered forces, he raised his voice.
“Unseelie! Creatures of fang and shadow, of wrath and ruin. It appears we have some amongst us who believe our enemies deserve more consideration.” He couldn’t help but press his palm to his chest in deep irony.
“One who would see us return to the shadows and consider our own immortal souls before we exterminate all those who stand before us. I ask, what say you all? Should we feed the thirsty ground with blood for blood’s sake?
Or shall we retreat and pray for peace?”
A low growl ran through the assembled creatures. These beings had flocked to his banner precisely because they were tired of hiding, tired of apologizing for their nature, or tired of pretending that coexistence was possible with creatures who saw them as aberrations.
“Tonight we bring death. Not for glory. Not for revenge. But for the beauty of it all!” Valroy felt an intoxicating rush flow through him as sounds of agreement echoed across the hillside.
This was what he had been born for—not the careful political maneuvering of court life, but this moment of pure purpose when all pretense fell away.
“Tonight,” he declared, spreading his wings to their full magnificent span, “we remind the world what happens when predators remember their nature. Tonight, we remind the humans what it meant to fear the dark!”
The roar that answered him was deafening, a sound of pure hunger and barely restrained violence that sent tremors through the merged earth beneath their feet.
In the distance, he could see lights flashing in the human outpost as their enemies scrambled to respond to the obvious threat massing above them.
But when he turned back to Izael, the younger fae's expression hadn't changed. If anything, he looked saddened by the display. “There is no deterring you.”
“You will not believe me when I say I do honestly respect your attempt.” Valroy smirked. “But you never stood a chance at success.”