Final Showdown
Amy hears them arrive. You can't march a company of soldiers up to a castle without making a fair bit of noise. Armor, after all, clanks.
"That will be Maximilian," she says, to Stefan.
"Yes."
"Hand me the state crown, please," Amy says.
Stefan brings it over. "I still don't like your going out there, Your Majesty."
"Your objection, my lord, has been duly noted." Amy settles the most formal and impressive of her crowns on her head. Then she stands up and smiles. "Let's go see what that blasted traitor has to say for himself, shall we, Stefan?"
Stefan shakes his head slightly, and offers her his arm. He escorts her out onto the balcony that overlooks the main entrance to the palace.
Amy steps up to the edge and looks down. In the wide courtyard below, her husband's Evil Uncle sits on his charger, sunlight glinting off his armor and the small coronet that is his right as a count. There are roughly thirty soldiers behind him.
Amy can't see all the people watching from the palace windows, but she know they're there.
The room she gave Meg overlooks the front of the palace. Meg is trying to work the tangles out of her just washed hair when she hear the commotion outside. She takes one look out the window and, barefoot and in her dressing gown, rushes into the hallway. The guard at the door starts to object; Meg ignores him and knocks once on Logan's door, then opens it and says, "I think you better come see this," she says.
Logan spares a moment for a short, remorseful look at the tray that a chambermaid has just delivered from the palace kitchens, and follows her back across the hall. If Meg is just and about, and dressed like that, she probably has a good reason.
Looking down at the balcony and courtyard below, he has to admit that she does.
It's awkwardly, unnaturally quiet. Amy waits. Maximilian waits. Everyone else waits. Finally, very slowly, Maximilian dismounts and bows. (Not as low a bow as he should have offered, but low enough to prevent her from reacting to the insult he has offered.)
"Lord Maximilian."
"Your Majesty. I was most concerned, madam, to learn of my beloved nephew's abduction. I grew more concerned when you did not send for me. I fear you have received very bad advice. It is my duty and my great honor to aid you at such times. Perhaps Her Majesty, in her great distress, forgot that fact."
"How fortunate that we have you to remind us," says Amy. "We do not doubt your concern, and indeed suspect that in many ways it was second only to our own, upon hearing the details of this abduction. Perhaps in your distress, Uncle, you have forgot that it is forbidden to bring armed men to the palace without permission."
"These men are hear to assist me in reaching His Majesty. With all due haste. I did not mean to offend you."
"Still, we did not send for these troops. Nor do we require their assistance. You will dismiss your men, Uncle. You will leave your personal arms with the guard. And then we would speak with you, in a more private setting."
"What, Majesty, cannot be said here?"
Amy looks over at Stefan, and he shakes his head slightly. Do not go into it now.
"We will discuss that in a more private setting," Amy repeats. "And we order you to dismiss your men."
Before Maximilian can answer, one way or another, the shouts begin to go up. "There look!" "Dragon, dragon!"
Amy looks over, first concerned. And then puzzled. Are there people flying in on that dragon?
And then one of them lifts a hand in a gesture Amy would know anywhere, and she smiles.
"My men will no doubt be needed to kill this beast that has killed the king," Maximilian says, but he, too begins to look concerned as the dragon flies closer and closer.
And then, loud and clear and very regal, Perry calls down from the back of the dragon. "We fear, Uncle, that the reports of our death have been somewhat exaggerated."
Norman flies close enough to balcony to let its passengers scramble off (some with more grace and dignity than others), and then perches on the roof, watching everyone with calm yellow eyes.
The courtyard is in utter chaos. Half the men with Maximilian turn and run, most of the rest lay down their arms. Maximilian's horse makes a mad dash for Away From The Dragon. There is a general hubbub coming from the palace windows.
"Amethyst?" Perry inquires, polite and formal, as if had simply happened to enter the same drawing room. The wink is lightning fast, but Amy knows to watch for it.
Amy bows her head, slightly. "Welcome home, Algernon."
Lord Maximilian is fast. He's very fast, and perhaps he would have pulled it off, if he had been dealing only with the people he was used to dealing with. Because while Lord Maximilian is fast . . . X-23 is faster.
She has been scanning the crowd in front of the palace since even before Norman set her down. So when Lord Maximilian starts to bring the crossbow up, X is already moving toward the most likely targets. She keeps an eye on Maximilian, watching for him to fire, calculating trajectories and . . .
The crossbow bolt that would otherwise have gone into Amy's heart buries itself in the back of X's shoulder.
X keeps her body between a stunned Amy and the shooter, sweeping the other woman's feet out from under her, and dropping both of them behind the relative safety of the balcony's balustrade.
Parker barely has time to gasp before 494 has knocked her safely down as well. And if a certain visit to Manticore taught her anything, it was that 494 is not going to do something like that without a damn good reason. She may not have any idea exactly what's going on, but she's staying down till someone tells her it's safe to get up.
"Sorry if that bruises," 494 mutters, keeping his hand pressed to the back of her neck. "This really isn't actually as cool as it looks in the movies." He pauses for a laugh, the words spilling out a mile a minute. "Well, that's not entirely true, when I'm out kicking ass, it's definitely cooler. But it looks like our help might not be needed for long . . ."
"Just tell me when we're not being shot at. And for heaven's sake, keep your head down," Parker tells him.
Perry and Lord Stefan both duck, the latter moving to defend the former. Only Tom is still standing, wand out, casting a shielding spell over the balcony and its occupants to protect them all from further harm.
"Oh, God, Laura, you're hurt," Amy says, pulling her wits back together and focusing on what seems to be the most immediate problem first.
"It is okay," X tells her. "I heal."
Amy would probably argue this point, but before she can, Logan yells from the window above, "Amy! He's getting away!"
Perry, crouched down next to his wife, looks at Amy and raises his eyebrows. She nods once. And then they both stand up.
In the ever increasing chaos, Maximilian has made a mad dash for the outermost palace gate.
"Norman," Perry says, calmly, "as we need no further proof of his treachery, we would appreciate your doing us the great service of dealing with our uncle."
There's a bright, dangerous grin from the dragon, and then, so fast that the people watching see only a blur from the roof to the ground, he swoops down on Maximilian.
A moment later, in the sudden shocked silence, Norman the Royal Dragon of Ambergeldar sits back contentedly, burps, and spits out Lord Maximilian's coronet.
"That will be Maximilian," she says, to Stefan.
"Yes."
"Hand me the state crown, please," Amy says.
Stefan brings it over. "I still don't like your going out there, Your Majesty."
"Your objection, my lord, has been duly noted." Amy settles the most formal and impressive of her crowns on her head. Then she stands up and smiles. "Let's go see what that blasted traitor has to say for himself, shall we, Stefan?"
Stefan shakes his head slightly, and offers her his arm. He escorts her out onto the balcony that overlooks the main entrance to the palace.
Amy steps up to the edge and looks down. In the wide courtyard below, her husband's Evil Uncle sits on his charger, sunlight glinting off his armor and the small coronet that is his right as a count. There are roughly thirty soldiers behind him.
Amy can't see all the people watching from the palace windows, but she know they're there.
The room she gave Meg overlooks the front of the palace. Meg is trying to work the tangles out of her just washed hair when she hear the commotion outside. She takes one look out the window and, barefoot and in her dressing gown, rushes into the hallway. The guard at the door starts to object; Meg ignores him and knocks once on Logan's door, then opens it and says, "I think you better come see this," she says.
Logan spares a moment for a short, remorseful look at the tray that a chambermaid has just delivered from the palace kitchens, and follows her back across the hall. If Meg is just and about, and dressed like that, she probably has a good reason.
Looking down at the balcony and courtyard below, he has to admit that she does.
It's awkwardly, unnaturally quiet. Amy waits. Maximilian waits. Everyone else waits. Finally, very slowly, Maximilian dismounts and bows. (Not as low a bow as he should have offered, but low enough to prevent her from reacting to the insult he has offered.)
"Lord Maximilian."
"Your Majesty. I was most concerned, madam, to learn of my beloved nephew's abduction. I grew more concerned when you did not send for me. I fear you have received very bad advice. It is my duty and my great honor to aid you at such times. Perhaps Her Majesty, in her great distress, forgot that fact."
"How fortunate that we have you to remind us," says Amy. "We do not doubt your concern, and indeed suspect that in many ways it was second only to our own, upon hearing the details of this abduction. Perhaps in your distress, Uncle, you have forgot that it is forbidden to bring armed men to the palace without permission."
"These men are hear to assist me in reaching His Majesty. With all due haste. I did not mean to offend you."
"Still, we did not send for these troops. Nor do we require their assistance. You will dismiss your men, Uncle. You will leave your personal arms with the guard. And then we would speak with you, in a more private setting."
"What, Majesty, cannot be said here?"
Amy looks over at Stefan, and he shakes his head slightly. Do not go into it now.
"We will discuss that in a more private setting," Amy repeats. "And we order you to dismiss your men."
Before Maximilian can answer, one way or another, the shouts begin to go up. "There look!" "Dragon, dragon!"
Amy looks over, first concerned. And then puzzled. Are there people flying in on that dragon?
And then one of them lifts a hand in a gesture Amy would know anywhere, and she smiles.
"My men will no doubt be needed to kill this beast that has killed the king," Maximilian says, but he, too begins to look concerned as the dragon flies closer and closer.
And then, loud and clear and very regal, Perry calls down from the back of the dragon. "We fear, Uncle, that the reports of our death have been somewhat exaggerated."
Norman flies close enough to balcony to let its passengers scramble off (some with more grace and dignity than others), and then perches on the roof, watching everyone with calm yellow eyes.
The courtyard is in utter chaos. Half the men with Maximilian turn and run, most of the rest lay down their arms. Maximilian's horse makes a mad dash for Away From The Dragon. There is a general hubbub coming from the palace windows.
"Amethyst?" Perry inquires, polite and formal, as if had simply happened to enter the same drawing room. The wink is lightning fast, but Amy knows to watch for it.
Amy bows her head, slightly. "Welcome home, Algernon."
Lord Maximilian is fast. He's very fast, and perhaps he would have pulled it off, if he had been dealing only with the people he was used to dealing with. Because while Lord Maximilian is fast . . . X-23 is faster.
She has been scanning the crowd in front of the palace since even before Norman set her down. So when Lord Maximilian starts to bring the crossbow up, X is already moving toward the most likely targets. She keeps an eye on Maximilian, watching for him to fire, calculating trajectories and . . .
The crossbow bolt that would otherwise have gone into Amy's heart buries itself in the back of X's shoulder.
X keeps her body between a stunned Amy and the shooter, sweeping the other woman's feet out from under her, and dropping both of them behind the relative safety of the balcony's balustrade.
Parker barely has time to gasp before 494 has knocked her safely down as well. And if a certain visit to Manticore taught her anything, it was that 494 is not going to do something like that without a damn good reason. She may not have any idea exactly what's going on, but she's staying down till someone tells her it's safe to get up.
"Sorry if that bruises," 494 mutters, keeping his hand pressed to the back of her neck. "This really isn't actually as cool as it looks in the movies." He pauses for a laugh, the words spilling out a mile a minute. "Well, that's not entirely true, when I'm out kicking ass, it's definitely cooler. But it looks like our help might not be needed for long . . ."
"Just tell me when we're not being shot at. And for heaven's sake, keep your head down," Parker tells him.
Perry and Lord Stefan both duck, the latter moving to defend the former. Only Tom is still standing, wand out, casting a shielding spell over the balcony and its occupants to protect them all from further harm.
"Oh, God, Laura, you're hurt," Amy says, pulling her wits back together and focusing on what seems to be the most immediate problem first.
"It is okay," X tells her. "I heal."
Amy would probably argue this point, but before she can, Logan yells from the window above, "Amy! He's getting away!"
Perry, crouched down next to his wife, looks at Amy and raises his eyebrows. She nods once. And then they both stand up.
In the ever increasing chaos, Maximilian has made a mad dash for the outermost palace gate.
"Norman," Perry says, calmly, "as we need no further proof of his treachery, we would appreciate your doing us the great service of dealing with our uncle."
There's a bright, dangerous grin from the dragon, and then, so fast that the people watching see only a blur from the roof to the ground, he swoops down on Maximilian.
A moment later, in the sudden shocked silence, Norman the Royal Dragon of Ambergeldar sits back contentedly, burps, and spits out Lord Maximilian's coronet.