[fic, 433 words] goodnight, dear lady
[ooc: might be considered future!canon, might just be...a conversation that never happens, but could have.]
She was on her deathbed, that much was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Quietly, Julien closed the door behind him with hardly even a click to betray his presence in the once-Queen's chambers. Just as quietly, he turned the lock so they wouldn't be disturbed. Even in her invalid state, it was unlikely anyone would be coming by at this late hour. Well...at least not for another twenty minutes when her nurse would come to check on her. He wouldn't be here that long.
Carefully, he moved through the room, to kneel beside her bed, to wake her with an almost gentle touch. Her eyes widen when her sleepy, semi-drugged mind realizes who is facing her, she opens her mouth to take in a breath to shout for a guard, her hand twitches, trying to reach the button for her nurse.
It's rare indeed for waking in the middle of the night to see the Ace of Spades lurking in your room to be considered a good thing, after all. Julien covers her mouth with one hand, knocks the call-button out of her reach with the other. "No, no," he tsks softly, "I only want to talk. Just a little chat. Don't worry, it can be one-sided, I won't be offended."
He doesn't wait for an answer that won't come, though he does pause a moment to appreciate the fear warring with anger in her gaze. "I know," he says, leaning down to whisper these words in her ear. Words only meant for her. "I know you aren't long for this world and I thought you should know some things before you leave it." Somehow, Julien manages to sound eminently reasonable; almost helpful.
"First, there is an innocent man's blood on your hands. I'm certain you remember Marcus? Your late husband's supposed murderer?" Julien pauses to let that sink in before his reasonable whisper turns into a hiss, "he begged me to think of his daughter just before I stabbed him in the throat."
Weakly, she's trying to struggle against him now, but her illness has gone on too long and she has little strength left, "stabbed him in the throat," he continues, "and mutilated his face. But don't worry, I promised him I would take good care of her and-....well, so I have, have I not? She's so very lovely when she letting me fuck her."
By now, Argine is staring up at him, far too pale, shock taking over with the blows he's delivered without striking her once. He merely smiles, presses his lips to her forehead. "Let go, Lady, there's nothing left here for you."
She was on her deathbed, that much was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Quietly, Julien closed the door behind him with hardly even a click to betray his presence in the once-Queen's chambers. Just as quietly, he turned the lock so they wouldn't be disturbed. Even in her invalid state, it was unlikely anyone would be coming by at this late hour. Well...at least not for another twenty minutes when her nurse would come to check on her. He wouldn't be here that long.
Carefully, he moved through the room, to kneel beside her bed, to wake her with an almost gentle touch. Her eyes widen when her sleepy, semi-drugged mind realizes who is facing her, she opens her mouth to take in a breath to shout for a guard, her hand twitches, trying to reach the button for her nurse.
It's rare indeed for waking in the middle of the night to see the Ace of Spades lurking in your room to be considered a good thing, after all. Julien covers her mouth with one hand, knocks the call-button out of her reach with the other. "No, no," he tsks softly, "I only want to talk. Just a little chat. Don't worry, it can be one-sided, I won't be offended."
He doesn't wait for an answer that won't come, though he does pause a moment to appreciate the fear warring with anger in her gaze. "I know," he says, leaning down to whisper these words in her ear. Words only meant for her. "I know you aren't long for this world and I thought you should know some things before you leave it." Somehow, Julien manages to sound eminently reasonable; almost helpful.
"First, there is an innocent man's blood on your hands. I'm certain you remember Marcus? Your late husband's supposed murderer?" Julien pauses to let that sink in before his reasonable whisper turns into a hiss, "he begged me to think of his daughter just before I stabbed him in the throat."
Weakly, she's trying to struggle against him now, but her illness has gone on too long and she has little strength left, "stabbed him in the throat," he continues, "and mutilated his face. But don't worry, I promised him I would take good care of her and-....well, so I have, have I not? She's so very lovely when she letting me fuck her."
By now, Argine is staring up at him, far too pale, shock taking over with the blows he's delivered without striking her once. He merely smiles, presses his lips to her forehead. "Let go, Lady, there's nothing left here for you."