Shorty & the Beast: Part Five (rough draft)

The beginning of the story, after all this time, finally starts here. While it may be towards the end, it’s coming right when it should. Around the height of Kyairil’s power and influence, he had been on the right hand of the drow queen, in the area now known as Charbagne. He was a powerful draconic magician, and she enjoyed the power he exuded. She also enjoyed his visage, his beauty, so she made him her lover as well.

Being young and tempestuous, Kyairil rollicked gleefully in all this attention and power. As the queen’s lover he had all sorts of freedoms and allowances. He always bragged he could get away with murder, which would come back to bite him in the ass. He grew to love his Queen, saw her in a way some people might call worshipping. But then, she got sick.

It happened slowly, almost unnoticeable. Things about her behaviour changed as she started taking medicine to ease the pain she was in. Her mind and body were affected, making her lash out with horribly unpredictable mood swings. She was becoming miserable in her slow decline and inflicting misery onto others. She still clung to Kyairil, in fact, she relied on him more and more as her sickness progressed. But it was Kyairil’s vanity, not affection, that kept him by her side. He didn’t want to give up his luxury and comfort that he had grown so dependent upon. But he also had a hard time being around his queen now.

It came to pass that the queen couldn’t leave her bed. She struggled daily with things that used to come so naturally to her. Every day Kyairil heard the death battle from her room, and though she called for him he refused to enter. He was afraid, but he wouldn’t admit that to himself. He feared what she had become, what could easily happen to him. He feared losing her if only for the fact he’d lose what he thought meant most to him. He wasn’t ready to look at himself beyond his own reflection.

Then, the day the story began arrived. He was forced into the queen’s chambers upon her command. She lay in bed, shriveled, unrecognizable and barely breathing. She looked up at Kyairil and raised her hand to touch his face. He wanted to recoil, but he stayed still, letting her bony hand with sagging skin caress him. She smiled at him, reliving fond memories that they had shared together.

“My magician,” she wheezed. “I need you now more than ever.”

Kyairil took her hand and moved it away from his face. He clutched it, holding it away from him so she wouldn’t try to touch again. “I am here now, my queen. Ask of me anything and I will give it to you.”

Her breath rattled again. “Long ago you told me of a potion that allowed for a beautiful death.”

His body grew tense and he nodded. “It’s very hard to come by, even more difficult to make.”

“Good. I don’t want it. I’m not beautiful anymore.” She had to take long breaks to breathe between her words. “But I do want something that will end me all the same. The others won’t let me, but you-” she smiled again. “You will let me die, won’t you?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “My queen, you could get better.”

“I’ll feel better when I’m dead, you piece of shit.” She grabbed hold of his collar when his defenses were down and yanked on him with a strength he wasn’t prepared for me. “You were a good fuck, a pretty face. You saw me that way too.” She coughed in his face. “You owe me for all I did for you. Your dick wasn’t enough. No matter what you think,” she croaked out a laugh.

He yanked back away from her, fixing his shirt back although a button was missing. “Fine,” he huffed. “You caught me. So what is it you want? How do you want to die? In your sleep? Shitting yourself. Perhaps I should make a lever that will send you to hell.”

She cackled. “Wrong lever. I’m already in hell.”

He glared down at her. “So tell me, what way do you want to die?”

She smacked her mouth a few times. “I want to go in battle.”

That was unexpected. Kyaril stared down at her, brow furrowed and lips parted. “You want to fight to the death?”

“I can’t do much,” she cackled. “But I can try.”She reached up to touch him again and he yanked away. “If you do this for me, I will give you the key to my personal vault and everything inside will be all yours.”

“I thought you said that was a rumor.”

She smiled. “I can lie, can’t I?”

He sat back again, pondering this in his mind. “They’ll suspect something.”

“They know I want to die, but they won’t get their hands dirty.” She had tears forming in her eyes. “I just want to fucking die. I want it all gone. I want to have the death I always planned. Please!”

“I-” his voice cracked. “Are you sure this will be okay?”

She grabbed him by the throat, and in response he struggled, pulling away from her and strike her hand away. She crawled after him, moving more than she had in months. She clawed at his chest, he pushed her back down into the bed, his hands around her throat. She was smiling, struggling. She coughed up blood and spit it on him.

He reeled back, falling off of her and onto the floor. Panicked, he tried to get her to breathe again. He became covered in blood, so did the bed. He was crying, freaking out. And then he daughter’s walked into the room.

He was locked away into his chambers. They said he would be punished accordingly depending on if she lived or died. He sat on his bed, shaking and staring at the blood on his hands. For a few days, he waited in silence and in the cold. It had been a few days, perhaps she would live, he thought. But by the new moon he got his answer. Her eldest daughter came and took him to his punishment. He killed the queen, just death wasn’t going to be good enough for him. He needed something worse, something that would make him suffer more.

For a while, his prison hung above the throne. But when the Drow were run out of Charbagne, he was thrown away. He was later found but was cast aside again when he reached out for help. Sealed in wax and wrapped in a leather bag, he was placed in the river. Luckily he never floated out to sea as intended. Instead he sank to the bottom, trapped between stones, and there he waited until a giant slobbering Mastiff thought he was a toy.

Roslile saved him, although he only took that for granted. Now, he realized what having her be the one to save him meant for him. He didn’t just want his freedom anymore, he wanted a life with her. He wasn’t ready to say that yet, not until he knew he could be free for good. Now that they were in Raksahsa Country, he was eager to say it out loud to her.

Himank gave Roslile the royal treatment once they arrived. She was given her own room and anything at all she could ask for. Noodle was treated like a king and he was able to run and play in the royal gardens. Roslile was given time to rest, but it wasn’t something she wanted. She wanted to go home, she wanted to fulfill her promise to Kyairil. All she needed was to meet with Queen Mythri.

Eventually, a meeting was planned and Roslile was taken to Mythri’s solarium. She sat in the warm sunlit room, gazing out at the garden just beyond the glass. Noodle was outside playing before he stopped in a sunny patch and flopped over, wagging his tail happily. She kept her hand on the halberd, nervous to finally meet her idol.

“It’ll be okay. You saved the life of her son, she will probably adore you,” Kyairil coaxed. “Don’t be so nervous.”

“I can’t help it. I’ve adored Queen Mythri for long! And now, I actually get to meet her. I get to talk to her!” She exclaimed in disbelief. “What if I offend her? What if she doesn’t like me?”

Kyairil laughed. “How could she not like you?”

“I’m sorry!” A gentle voice called out. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, but I had to get him out of bed.” In she walked, arm in arm with her husband.

Roslile gazed up at her, awed by how lovely she was, even more impressed by the soft smile upon her face. It was her! It was Queen Mythri, the living goddess. She welled up instantly, eyes watering and overflowing. She turned away quickly, trying to cover up how ridiculous this was.

“Just a second!” Roslile whimpered. “I’m so sorry!”

Mythri sat beside her on the sofa and placed her hand on the small of her back. “Come now, it’s alright.”

“I’ve wanted to meet you for so long,” Roslile hiccuped. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“You saved my baby, I should be the one crying.” Mythri chuckled. “You risked your life for us, I owe you more than a meeting.”

Roslile sniffled, finally looking into her face. Mythri had such lovely, deep skin, and rough wide eyes that looked so warm and soothing. She was older than she had imagined, she had expected her to remain eternally youthful because she was a goddess.

Mythri mopped up Roslile’s face then wrapped her up in a warm hug. “I’m so happy to meet you, Roslile. I’m honored.”

She sputtered, unsure how to react.

“Try being married to her,” Amit said, trying to make a joke.

Mythri smirked towards him. “He wanted to meet you too. We’ve both been just so amazed by your story, Roslile. If there is anything we can do for you, ask us. We’d be happy to fulfill any favor you need.”

This was it. It was her chance to ask the goddess to free him. She took up the halberd and for a second Amit flinched as if to protect Mythri, but she tapped his leg to keep him seated. Roslile lost her breath, and she bowed down her head.

“My friend, he’s cursed inside this weapon.” She extended it out to Mythri. “I don’t need anything at all. I just want to go home. But...if you could use your powers to free him, I’d never ask you for anything ever again.”

“I-” Mythri looked confused and saddened. She held the halberd in her hands as a look of guilt crossed her face. “Is there something I should say? What can I do to free him?”

Roslile looked up again, unsure how to take Mythri’s expression. “You’re a goddess...can’t you do something?”

Mythri wanted to be struck by lightning. It pained her to see Roslile’s expression, to hear the give in her voice. “I’m not,” she said softly. “That is a story the people tell. I’m so sorry, but I’m only human.” Her chest ached as Roslile’s expression succumbed to grief.

“You’re-” How could it end like this? She traveled all this way just for Mythri. She knew for certain Mythri could help her. “Oh.” She took back the halberd into her hands, but Mythri placed her hands upon her. “Its okay,” she trembled.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

Roslile’s tears fell upon the halberd. She didn’t know what to say. She had put all efforts onto this moment, and now, it felt like failure. Everything had hinged on Mythri, and now she felt so guilty. To Mythri, to Kyairil, she didn’t know how to make it up to them.

“Because of her we have the information we need that could save the entire world from Sanguis Rex,” Amit spoke gently and slowly. “We owe her something. Surely there is someone who can help her with her request.”

Roslile stood up. “It’s okay. I just-” She whimpered.

“Sit down,” Amit replied. “We have liches with us, perhaps they would be capable of doing something to help you.”

Mythri put her arm around Roslile. “We will do what we can. I promise. We will help your friend.” She let Roslie lean against her, holding her lovingly like a mother would. “It’s okay,” she tried to calm her.

“Don’t,” Kyairil whispered. “Please, don’t be this upset. Roslile, it’s not your fault. Really. It isn’t. Let’s go back to our room, I want to talk to you.”

Roslile sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crack like that.” She stood up. “Let me go freshen up and calm down before I talk again.”

“How about supper?” Mythri suggested. “We’ll have you to our quarters so we can discuss this further.”

She nodded. “Thank you. That sounds nice.” After making her escape to her room, she laid in the giant bed with the halberd by her side.

“Don’t feel this way,” Kyairil’s voice wavered. “I am imprisoned for a reason. You’ve done everything up until this point. Risked your life. Saved the world. And what have I done?”

“You’ve made me strong,” she murmured. “You’ve made me feel capable.”

“But in support of lie. Roslile, I want to tell you the truth.”

She turned and looked to the blade, seeing him inside it. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t told you why I’m here. What I’ve done.” He swallowed and clutched his hands over his face. “I thought it wouldn’t matter when I was freed. But now it does.” He took a shuddering breath. “I killed someone that I loved.”

Roslile sat up, her brow furrowing.

“She was my queen, and for a time I did love her. But it was selfish. And when she grew ill-” He stopped himself.

“Why did you kill her?” Roslile asked with uncertainty.

“She was sick, she asked me to. But I-I was angry. She offered me a fortune. When I realized what I was doing I tried to save her. I really did! But-” His voice faded away. “I deserve to be here. I was selfish and greedy all my life. All I did was use and hurt others. Look where I am!” He started to laugh. “It’s okay if I’m never free. I still got to meet you.”

“You’re not that person anymore,” Roslile said gently. “It’s been long enough, you deserve to be free and have that second chance.”

“I’m sorry I led you on. This whole trip, it was my fault.”

“I’m not mad about that,” Roslile huffed. “I’m not cursing the trip. It was hard, and it was more than I expected. But it was my own stubbornness that made me go forward. Not just you. We’re here now. We’re together. That’s worth it. Isn’t it?”

Kyairil is stunned. “Yeah,” he finally choked out, completely breathless. “It is.”

“What’s the use in looking back?” Roslile laid back down beside the halberd. “I’m glad you told me what happened. But, from the sounds of things, it wasn’t your fault. Not entirely.”

“If I ever get free, you’re going to be in trouble,” he tried to laugh. “My little dove.”

Roslile closed her eyes and tried to picture him laying beside her. His long hair spilled over the pillows, her dark skin glimmering in the dim light. “Why do you call me a bird all the time?”

She could feel his fingers brush against her cheek. “Because you are small,” he breathed. “And because you are free.”

She leaned in to kiss him, but found nothing but air. She sniffled and smiled for him. “I thought you were teasing me all this time.”

“Oh I was. But I was being sappy as well,” he chuckled. “I can do both.”

“Ugh, how sweet.”

Roslile sat up in alarm, readying the halberd before her. She then saw, across the room, something big and green glowing in the corner. She swallowed hard as the ghostly creature stood and approached her.

“Don’t look so surprised!” He laughed. “I’m a lich, so this is kind of what I do.” He laid his skeletal hand upon hsi chest. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Theodred, the emerald lich. And I have come at behest of my dearest friend, Mythri.”

“Holy oats,” Roslile murmured.

Theodred guffawed. “How cute! Been awhile since I saw Halflings. Scared them all away in my youth. Much apologies by the way. Hope you all are happy wherever you ran away to.”

Roslile looked him up and down, he glowed green and wore extravagant clothing. Parts of him looked to be made of emeralds, his skeletal hands, his skull like head. He looked like something from a nightmare, but he talked like an asshole.

“I can’t feel much, but I can feel him,” Kyairil whispered.

“Speak up sonny, I’m not as young as I used to me.” Theodred cupped his hand around where his ear must have been.

“You can hear him?” Roslile gasped.

“Magic is sort of my thing. I’m living breathing magic in a dead old body.” He patted his own shoulders. “I’m much more attuned to these magical forces than others, so yeah, I can hear your little boyfriend. Now hand him over.” He thrust out his hand before himself and wagged his fingers. “Gimmie.”

“What are you going to do?” Roslile asked, holding the halberd back.

“I’m going to turn him into candy. What do you think I’m going to do? I’m going to try and free him!”

She perked up and offered the halberd over. “Really? You think you can?”

Theodred took the halberd and looked it over. “Well, I’m going to try something. Ah, Drow magic I see. Shouldn’t be too hard. Although it has been a while. You comfortable in there, boy?”

Kyairil scoffed. “Not at all.”

“Ah, then this won’t hurt a bit.” Theodred broke the halberd over his knee, breaking the metal blades in half.

Roslile screamed as the metal hit the ground. “What have you done?”

“What?” Theodred dusted off his clothes. “What did you think was going to happen?”

She fell to the floor, trying to pick up the shards of metal. “No! No, no, no,” she whimpered. “Kyairil! Kyairil!” She screamed.

A hand grabbed hold of her shoulder, but she took it for Theodred and she punched him right in the gut. “Ow!” Kyairil doubled over. “Your first time touching me...I’ll remember it.”

Roslile lost her breath. She dropped the metal and clutched her hands around her mouth. “It’s you!”

He smiled as he knelt down. “Poppy trained you too well. That punch really killed.” He placed his hands around her face. He brushed against her skin, ran his fingers through her hair. “Finally,” he whispered.

Roslile bounced up, kissing him hard enough to knock their teeth together. She clung tight to him, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“You’re welcome,” Theodred scoffed. “Kids these days.”