Day 39-3 Rummy
DAY 39-3: RUMMY
"WHERE'S THE ALCOHOL?"
"G-General Paola, you shouldn't be drinking so early—"
"Don't tell me what to do!" She knocks aside the chef, seizing another can of alcohol on the table before her.
Baring her teeth, she spits. The other chefs stand a safe distance, drowned by fear.
Paola gulps the drink in mere seconds and crumples the can, chucking it to the floor with enough force to dent it.
"Ugh!" she hisses, a fire smouldering in her eyes.
"That filthy Spade! Where did he disappear to? "
Without a care for the reception hall they had meticulously prepared for the wedding, Paola continues to ravage the room; stealing more cans from the table and socking them across the room and causing loud-scale destruction.
It was never a good idea to interact with her whenever she lost her cool.
"Paola. Paola. Paola," Uno calls, creeping up from behind. Likewise, he's adorned in the fanciest clothes in his possession, although his black cloak still hangs over and shields his eyes. "Paola. Paola. Paola—"
"Shut up, Uno!" Paola shrieks. "You're driving me madder than the Queen herself!"
Uno can only titter at her frustration, more so at her soiled sword she has aimed to his neck. Her features are scrunched in agitation, right eyelid twitching.
"Paola," he goes on anyway. "Paola. Paola. Uno has already—"
"I don't care, Uno!" Paola screeches. "I already personally torture the one we brought to the palace. And last night, I definitely sliced that girl's head clean off her neck. But there should be two others! A Spade in particular! There's another Spade hidden inside these castle walls!"
Uno pauses. "But. But. But. Uno has—"
"SHUT UP!?"
The entire room is forced to quake. Debris crumble from the ceiling, leaving the servants and chefs alike, blanch. Paola growls through her clenched teeth.
"Send troops to search the castle!" she yells. "I am catching these two if it's the last thing I do!"
"Paola. Paola. Paola. Uno has already—"
"JUST SHUT UP, UNO!"
Valentina stands before a mirror, admiring the dress her servants have prepared for her.
A fitted bodice that comes in at the waist then flares out to a full, floor-length skirt with lots of volume.
Her hair that had been made the night before remains in a braid at her side, cute white pins and hearts decorations amidst.
She takes a peek at the dress she had originally planned for this day, the one the Queen had worn to her coronation. Who'd have thought in just a couple of hours she'd hear she's to marry her older step-brother.
"If you're merely going to stand there you may as well come in," Valentina calls, her fingers caressing the nearby cage where her crow familiar sits.
Accordingly, a chuckle fills the air. He strolls right in at that, and the servants that have been tending to her drop their gazes and immediately excuse themselves. Avel watches them with his eyes and when the last one scampers out, shutting the door behind her, he fixes his gaze onto his sister.
His smile reaches his eyes. "I mean what I said, though. Dolled up all cute like that."
Valentina rolls her eyes. "If you came here to make me feel queasy, you've already succeeded."
Avel joins her side. Just as he does, Valentina raises the large dress and moves away. Avel notes her attempt to keep her distance and frowns, letting his hands sink into his pockets.
"Even though we'll be husband and wife you're colder than usual."
"What do you expect?" she returns. "I have Mother's ice magic flowing through my veins."
The corners of his lips quirk up, slightly.
"Besides," Valentina continues before he can comment. "I've only heard of this arrangement last minute. I can't believe that stupid fox escaped; I warned Mother she was bad news."
"Even if Remi was, Mother's words are absolute," Avel agrees. "So whether I marry her or my very own sister as long as it pleases her that's all that matters."
Valentina snorts, folding her arms over her chest. The soft music that's carried through the room is both calming, yet holds lingering melancholy. For both of them.
Avel takes Valentina's hand, forcing her to look into his identical eyes.
"Avelious," she warns.
"It's always been your dream to become queen, hasn't it?" he replies anyway, purple brows creasing. "Cheer up a bit more. This is about as close as Mother will let you come to the throne."
Though wanting to retreat her hand, she can't bring herself to deny the heat.
For somebody so heartless, he still possesses a warmth like everyone else.
"I can say the same to you," she says, lips twisting up.
"You've always reiterated that as long as it was for Mother you'd readily become king.
Then, tell me Avelious, why do you look as if that's the last thing you want? "
For some reason, Avel is startled she can see that. He was so sure he'd hidden his feelings.
"I... didn't think it'd be so soon," he confesses, and pauses. "I mean, in just four hours, our futures will be set."
"Somebody capable of brutally slaughtering one hundred men in two days is getting cold feet?" Valentina cackles at the idea. "I must be hearing things."
"Val." The sudden edge in his voice stills her in place. "Mother is the Queen of Hearts."
Valentina shuts her eyes in understanding. Then, she flicks him straight on his forehead.
Avel flinches, hands darting to the spot. He makes a face. "Why—"
"Don't you think I understand that better than anyone?" Valentina places her hands to her hips, jutting her chin. "That's been drilled into our heads since the day we were born."
Avel's countenance turns sour. "You're fine with it then?"
"I always have been," she replies. "Don't get me wrong.
I'd do anything to become Queen. But, the fact of the matter is: my life doesn't mean anything compared to hers.
It's like you said: Mother's words are absolute.
That's why if it'll better Straeh I'll readily gut out my own heart and offer it to her.
As long as you can receive the Divine Right from our marriage, I don't care if she kills me to keep her possession of the throne. You shouldn't either."
The boldness of his sister's declaration instills a sense of astonishment he can't easily digest. Every conversation with Valentina is the same.
Whether it be about trivial matters of food preferences all the way to personal sacrifice, Valentina gives her all to Straeh.
No matter the favouritism his Mother always withheld towards him she never once let that hinder her from sticking to her morals.
She never once made it seem like the life they're living isn't claustrophobic.
Out of every Heart, Avel always felt the most relieved whenever he was around her. And also, the most envious.
A weak laugh leaves his lips. "Val."
She flutters her eyelashes, puzzled by the silly grin that has wormed its way to his face. "Hmm?"
"I love you."
Redness soaks into her cheeks. She stamps her foot, grappling for the nearest pillow and slamming it at his face. "Idiot! Save that for the wedding!" With a huff, she spins around. "Having my own brother speak words of affection to me is appalling."
Avel doesn't use his magic to stop the pillow, and instead, his hand. Amusement as well as awe swim across his features as he lowers it to his side.
"Yes, yes." Laughing once more, he sets the pillow back where she'd grabbed it. With a wave over his shoulder, he heads for the doorway. "See you in four hours, Val."
He leaves almost as quietly as he entered. Valentina purses her lips, trying to bury the embarrassment searing through her. She peers towards the doorway where he'd departed, and it isn't long before a frown takes the form of her lips.
"Has he gone sentimental? Right before the ceremony?" she muses to herself. If the Queen were to find out about this she wouldn't be happy.
"Val," Blaze calls.
Valentina barely considers the fairy that had taken such a fond liking to her. She crouches over, eyeing the tiles beneath her. Something about Avel's behaviour tickles the back of her mind.
"Straeh has changed since the death of the first king," she says, frowning as she does. "We know that, and yet we still do everything Mother orders..."
She stares at the hand he was holding moments ago.
"Idiot... It's almost as if you're trying to tell me the Avelious from back then hasn't yet disappeared.""
The cutting of flesh. The groans and grunts as he yanks his arm from his old skin. His vessels rip, and more blood spills. The maimed corpse that once belonged to him lies underneath; between the lumps of decaying flesh, organs, and peeling skin alike.
After kicking off his old foot from his new one, he hops off the bed he was lying in, onto the linoleum beneath him. Blood drips from head to toe, off his glistening white skin, without a single black spot to be found.
His eyes travel around the rather dark room, over the contraptions filled with mutated fairies and the lingering corpses off to the other end of the room.
His legs carry him down the spiral staircase and into the main foyer of the grand room below. He raises strewn clothes to his ray of sight, eyes shrinking.
"Heart-patterned clothes?" he realizes. "Am I inside a palace? Straeh's..."
He just about scavenges to find a more suitable outfit to wear when he's stopped by a squeezing hold from his legs.
"Don't move."
Hisses flood the air. Something entangles his exposed abdomen and shoulders, encasing even his neck in an excruciating hold.
"Where do you think you're going?" it hisses on, split-tongue tickling his ear. "My master still has plans for you."
He blinks once, then twice. Despite its hold, he easily moves, extending his palm and grabbing it. The creature emits a startled hiss but he already has it dangled before him, grip too vice for it to move.
"A serpent," he recognizes. "I'm definitely inside Heart territory."
It tries to wriggle for freedom. "Hey—"
"I'm going to be borrowing you," he proclaims. He slips out the only blue outfit from the wardrobe, fortunately one with the least amount of hearts to be seen, and nods. "This should be good. But first I need to cleanse myself. I'm sticky with blood."
"Hey!" Zaire hisses, writhing as he carries her to the adjacent bathroom. "Master Avel won't let this slide you know!"
This time, the name doesn't slip unnoticed. A simper curves his lips. "If you're referring to Avelious Hestia I'd like to see that vile criminal try."
Angling its piercing yellow eyes at him, Zaire just needs one proper look at this Spade's face—the oozing aura of pure strength—to recognize him.
She's seen him before.
"No way..." She grows limp in his stiff hold. "Don't tell me you're the..."
"If you don't want your guts splattered across this floor you will tell me everything you know about a human, Spade, and Mond.
" Ronan III smirks, the amount of power surging through his veins something he hasn't felt in months.
He's cured—back in top-shape. "The people of my kingdom are awaiting my return. "