A Mages' Pride... (Amatuer Juggler & FaeMelody) [Inactive]

[FaeMelody]

FaeMelody submitted a new role play:


A Mages' Pride... (Amatuer Juggler & FaeMelody) - Private 1x1 - How two mages have to over come pride to save their kingdom.

~Synopsis~

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It has been ten years since the humans finally turned the tides of the war and forced the dark creatures of Tel'Roth under ground. Ten years of peace and prosperity under the guidance of the beloved Prophet King has returned the kingdom of Ashadon to a resemblance of its former glory. The borderlands that separates the caves and tunnels of the Tel'Roth is patrolled heavily but since their defeat the creatures have remained silent and unseen, biding their time.


Many...

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[FaeMelody]

The room was quiet, the thick walls and soft carpet dampening the noise from the rest of the kingdom that continued on with life outside. The woman stood before the window, having recently drawn the heavy satin curtains back to allow the mid morning sunlight to finally penetrate the gloom within. Her blonde curls were twisted back into a braid that hung midway down her back, leaving nothing to soften the regal plains of her face. While not royalty herself, she might as well be for the fame and power she held inside and outside of this room. But the dark circles beneath her eyes and the exhaustion that faded her blue eyes to grey spoke of a woman you'd expect to be much older then twenty seven years.


Her face was plain to the untrained eye, it wasn't until she smiled that the beauty she'd been before her power was so drained shined through and transformed her whole being. Loralei smiled rarely these days. The pressure of keeping her Kings sickness under control had changed her from the vibrant happy young woman that had changed the tide of the war all those years ago. Though the determination bordering on stubbornness she'd showcased back then still held her spine rigid now. Her gaze clouded as from her position she could see the group of travellers and carriage work their way through the city streets, greeted by cheering and petal throwing of civilians that looked for any reason to celebrate now their King rarely made appearances or hosted galas like he use to. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat as guilt licked at her insides. It was only this past year she'd begun to struggle, she wasn't able to give him as much strength as she use to. Loralei still held the sickness within her solid grasp, allowing it to progress no further but the King suffered as weakness still forced him in bed most days and his prophet powers were becoming more muddled and delirium like.


Loralei sighed, her fingers twisting through each other against the soft skirts of her gown.


“And so rides change... feared though never for the right reasons.” A voice rasped from behind her, wiping the frown from her features as she turned and moved quickly to the Kings bedside. A quick glance in his green eyes showed this morning was one of the growing rare lucid days. She accepted the aged hand that reached for her and sat beside him on the luxurious sheets. “I fear nothing from this boy.” She lied, a half smile tugging at her lips as she helped him to sit up, arranging the cushions behind him and bringing a cup of cooled herbal tea to his lips. The Kings eyes sparkled, if the woman seemed old for her age the King was decrepit. The war had stolen not only his beloved queen but his youth. He'd soon reach his forty second year – yet his physique screamed of someone past sixty.


“I just... don't understand why you've done this. I've been doing this for years... have – have I displeased you?” Her voice caught as she looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with such a question floating in the space between them. The King shook his head sadly, patting her hand. “Lora, Don't be silly. You just choose not to understand. I should have never let you bare the weight of this on your own shoulders. I'll not have you kill yourself to keep me alive.”


“I'm fine! There a rumours that my powers are failing – but are you not still here? The disease hasn't progressed a day in ten years. Yet people have doubts in their eyes when I pass.” Loralei refused to look at him still, not comforted by his touch as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. The King sighed, the argument one they'd been having for the past two weeks since word had reached them of the other mage.


“You know I love you like a daughter. Your pride is blinding you, my dear – just please. Don't let it make a fool of you too.” The power in his last words drew her tired gaze to his own again finally. Unsure for once if he spoke with prophesy. Her lips pinched in denial and displeasure and she didn't respond. Instead she placed both hands on his chest and let the barest thread of her powers twine like a ball of thread rolling away from her and through his body. She fortified her magic’s hold on the disease that appeared to her like a leeching grey mist focused on his heart and lungs. The mist hungered for his strength, his power and his life but the barrier of her powers kept it contained and sated. Her awareness followed the trail of thread back into her own body but when she looked up at him and willed her strength into him as well, though nausea raised its monstrous head. The King pushed her away, recognizing the green tinge her features took. “Enough of that. Leave something for us to test this young man with hmm?”


The King watched his healer turn and move from the bed, worry in his eyes as she composed herself. Again he berated himself for believing her powers had no bounds – like it had seemed when she won them the war. A hundred prophesies twirled in his head, his weakness making it hard to decipher clearly what each one meant. But one thing rang clearly – if she didn't regain her strength, the Kingdom could be lost. The King had learnt the hard way however that sometimes knowing such things about the future made people more likely to follow the wrong path. So he remained silent and hoped that this other mage would get through to her in ways that he could not. The light that only he could see use to shine out her very pores – signifying the magnitude of her powers - was dull now. The same light his prophesy showed year after year imbuing him with borrowed strength. A light that would soon turn red as she fed him her very own life in lieu of the powers they hadn't let recharge.


While schooling her expression her hands poured boiled water that had been resting amid the embers of the fire into a bronze basin. She poured cold water in to bring down the temperature and brought it over to him. A cloth in her gentle fingers cleaned his face and freshened his body. She helped him into a clean nightshirt and royal embroidered robe. She rearranged the bed clothes, having already changed the linen last night at word that the Mage and his traveling party would arrive in the morning. A bell ring called the maid who she directed to stoke the fire, remove the dirty clothes and tidy the near spotless room. Another servant brought a light meal and another cup of strong herbal tea. Loralei hesitated over the cup for a moment, it use to be common practice to imbue the herbs with her magic to increase their potency. But the last time she'd tried that had been a few weeks back and she'd awoken a half hour later having passed out cold on the floor.


Loralei knew she was tired, exhausted even. She hadn't had a full night sleep in years as the longer she held the disease stable the more visits she had to make keep it there – day and night. But she was The Loralei Fable – Her power alone had boosted the drained and surviving mages and turned the tide against the brutal Tel'Roth. Her powers had lit up a whole battlefield with their might. People across the Kingdom cheered her name and included her in prayers. Pride? Who wouldn't have pride in such a feat! She had come from nothing, the daughter of a maid and instead of celebrating her coming of age and jumping a harvest bonfire with a sweetheart she had killed, burnt and saved. Instead of knowing love and family she had kept their beloved King alive and ruling, allowing this age of peace to prosper and stabilize.


The only thanks she wanted she had. The respect of the people and a position of power. Yet now both were under threat with the approach of this boy. This pampered and doted child who'd have been playing sack toss with his friends while she saved a nation. The unfairness burnt at her lungs and induced an ache behind her eyes. A life of devotion and isolation, this was how this kingdom thanked her. Rumours and a replacement.


If she had been a weaker woman she would have cried.


As it was there was no time for such weakness. A knock sounded at the door, dragging her eyes back to where the King sat in bed. The sympathy in his eyes just made it hurt all the more. Loralei shooed the maids from the room, ran a hand over blankets over the Kings form to straighten them before staring at the door with trepidation. “It's time, Lora.” The King nudged her softly and she moved around to stand between the door and the Kings bed.


“Enter.” She called, her face blank of feeling as she stood composed and seemingly in control. She heard the shuffle of the guards as they drew closer to push the heavy timber door wide to admit the guest. Her stomach churned as they announced her downfall but years of practice allowed nothing to show in her posture or expression. But one thought was all she could hear, blocking out the guards voice. The beginning of the end...

 

[FaeMelody]

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