#rotruled

he died so skekSa could take his place as the token chad

*opens up can of worms* 

Snow’s idea of home is very unstable, to say the least. If one were to pinpoint where she belonged, it would be in the heavens with other angels; however, given her annoying healing factor and immortality, she can never dwell with them for long. If one were literal, one would claim Landshut castle in Bavaria as her home. It was where she was born and raised, after all. Nonetheless, Snow feels little connection with that place or its people given the sordid memories associated with it. 

Her step-father nearly killing her after she is born. Her subjects thanking God that the demon-spawn is locked away in a tower. Her step-mother murdering her thrice, all for jealousy. 

        ❝     IN   CASE   YOU’VE   FORGOTTEN   –   let   me   remind   you ,   emperor ,   that   i   am   not   of   your   disgusting ,   forlorn ,   failing   kingdom ,   and   moreso   don’t   i   take   orders   from   anyone  …     ❞         if   the   arachnicon’d   pupils ,   they’d   roll   back   her   head    //   instead ,   fuchsia   compound   eyes   stare   down   at   the   skeksis   ruler   with   a   distaste .   A   BRIEF   ANGER   that’s   sour ,   bitter   undertone   in   her   voice   was   even   almost   present   in   the   stale   air   of   the   castle ,          ❝     i'm   a   queen ,   afterall   --   your   precious   gem   and   empty   words   of   faux   unity   are   nothing   to   me .   IF   YOU   SEEK   MY   GENEROUS   HOSPITALITY ,   you'd   do   well   to   remember   that .     ❞

        The loss of her true family, the UrSkeks, had not grown less painful over the many trine that passed after the great rending, only more bearable, and in her desperation to find normalcy after the heartbreak, she, like the Gelfling of Thra, was eager to welcome a new age under the UrSkeks’ ‘successors,’ the Skeksis. Indeed, if she looked closely, it wasn’t all that difficult to find traces of her beloved ones in the Skeksis’ words and deeds. skekEkt had EktUtt’s beauty; skekVar, VarMa’s strength and courage; and skekTek, TekTih’s golden eyes and thirst for knowledge. And if she looked into skekSo’s features, she could see her dear SoSu’s bountiful humor and love for life. 

She saw much of the same now, and it warmed her heart. 

After a lengthy tour of Thra, in which she secured more pledges of loyalty, and treasures, from the Gelfling clans, the palace darling had returned. A smile already blooming on her lips, she bowed low before the Emperor’s throne, a necessary formality that both of them agreed to bear, before she rose and embraced him. 

All the wonders of Thra could never truly compare to home, she thought. 

“Khrokon, I bring you fair tidings. All is well in your kingdom. The Gelfling reaffirm their loyalty and will send ten more of their strongest paladins for service.” She pulled away slightly, her expression widening into a sharp dimpled grin. “And I bring you gifts!” 

The Councilor beckoned for the podling servants to step forward. “Nyedee, nyedee! Fala vam,” she softly called, staying them with an outstretched hand once their treasures could be displayed. There were fine silk robes in shades of scarlet, purple, and black from Ha’rar and crystal bottles of perfume. There were jeweled swords from Stonewood craftsmen, incense burners from the Crystal Desert, and casks of the most decadent wine from Spriton stores-- all the riches Thra had to offer were within their grasp. 

The room became emptier, the specters fading until all what remain were Firelings, Podlings and the Gelflings (the form she mimics). Only the creatures of Thra remained as she was not blind to her sole living observer. As she moved her eyes held the gaze of the Skeksis emperor. Golden as the suns were her eyes, like stars they shined yet her gaze turned elsewhere. One by one the illusions disappeared as the clouds blanketed the moon. With one last twirl she stopped before the very edge of the pit, bowing as if the absence crystal was there, yet below it remained.

"With life there is death and with death there is life. A beginning and an end as all things must be. Foolish SkekSo and his Skeksis.” As the last of her words lefter her lips did she finally turn towards SkekSo. The lovely tone of her voice came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing with a haunting charm within the stone walls.

“What will become of you when all that is green and good vanishes before your eyes? What your claws can no longer reach? Until all is barren and you waste slowly away with only your hubris to comfort you. Yet even than you would not learn...”

         A part of Snow regrets returning to her childhood home, not because of the contempt boiling the air around her, but because she is forced to see her friend and monarch, once strong and jovial, now withered and full of weariness and rage.  She parts the crowd with solemn features, and the Skeksis who once loved her in return snarl and glare through baleful, beady eyes at her stalwart youth and beauty. Yet, none of them dare prevent her from her mission. How can they when they know she possesses the vigor they now lack?   

Besides, she is not there to plead for them to change their ways; her voice had grown hoarse from that. No, she is merely there to serve her emperor one last time. 

With a glance of warning, she brushes past the Chamberlain so that she may rest by her emperor’s side and gently grasp his bony hand. Her lips tremble. The once-forgotten smell of rot pervades her sensitive nose, and tears silently stream down her cheeks. So, this is to be the end of their story, she thinks. After hundreds of trine of service, she has truly failed him. He dies incomplete and diseased.

She gazes into his suspicious hues and sees the questions he is too weak to voice. She wishes she could answer them, but her throat constricts as the tears continue to flow. She bows her head and, after several shaky breaths, manages to hum a familiar tune, one which often graced the throne room when the Emperor was in need of solace. An angelic lullaby. In that song, she outpours all of her sorrow and affection, all of her love and regret. 

She sings until his hand disintegrates in her own. She can hear his body crumble into dust; she dares not look downward, for the sight would further break her heart. No, instead, she gazes heavenward. 

And a fragile, yet nonetheless joyful, smile shines through her cloud of melancholy. The others do not see his soul, but she can, and it is beautiful. He is youthful again, less weighed down by cares. He glances down at the bed before looking to her with an expression that Snow perchance thinks is apologetic. She immediately shakes her head. She will accept no apology for being afraid of the unknown; besides, what does it matter now? He has been healed, and that is all that she has ever wanted. 

Another light joins him and, much to the others’ consternation, the Skeksis’ Councilor begins to laugh. It is as warm as the three brothers and full of child-like enthusiasm; it is the laugh that graced their halls before the Darkening ever touched Thra, for Snow finally sees her old friend again: SoSu. 

A part of her longs to join him, to forcefully release her soul from its vessel-- her hand twitches to her sword for that very purpose. But, the look on his face stays her hand. He is complete and devoid of fear. His smiling eyes tell her that he knows where to travel next. 

She rises to her feet, and the others’ questions fade to the foreground. 

“Why is it laughing?” 

“It mocks us! Mocks the Emperor!” 

“We should kill it now.” 

“You fool! As if that has ever worked in the past!”

“Go in peace,” her voice cuts through the pandemonium. “You will live on in my heart until the moment we meet again.” 

For a moment, she is embraced by the light, and memories of a raven-haired child being cradled by another celestial being assail her. 

One moment, they are together, 

and the next, he is gone, 

        Snow froze in place, brow furrowing, pale lips curling downward with worry. This was, unfortunately, becoming something of a habit. A Gelfling paladin would inform her that the Emperor appeared unwell, and she would have to track him down through the dark, labyrinthine halls (not too difficult, really, given the pungent scent of decay) in order to remind him of himself and lead him back to his chambers.

It was clear that the exercises were wearing on her. Her eyes, once bright as jewels, were dull with sorrow.

“Khrokon,” she responded in Skexish, “you are in the Castle of the Crystal. You wandered off into the paladins’ barracks again.”

Afraid to reach out and startle him, she clasped her hands on her bosom. “You must remember me,” she added, as if trying to convince herself of the fact. “I am Snow, your Councilor and most humble servant. I am here to take you back to your chambers.”

She beckoned him gently forward. “Come. You are weary and need to rest.”