Desreal: false hope is the only kind; Hypatia, Saphira

He would have known this of you, Hypatia, but in that split second where his skin tore and she took his blood to feed the Shard, his mind finally fractured. After everything with Aitvaras, with his father, his entire life it seems, it is this one thing that finally breaks him. He had known before that you were the best Queen he could have, had known that you loved your people, and that you only asked from them a similar love and devotion. We are all flawed, as is obvious from the stallion standing before you. His father would shake his head in shame, for this is not the son he raised. This is a monster, and it deserves death. It deserves whatever you can hand out to him. But that is me, not him, and our opinions differ greatly.

Centurion stares back at the Queen, that grin plastered across his face like he had just won some sort of prize. The eyes are a bit maniacal, the pupils a little bit too dilated, the sclera showing as the lids draw back as he stares without blinking. He thinks he has won this round; put that damn mare and her little kitty back in their places. Who were they after all? Really, who were they? She is just a mare. She holds a Relic, yes, but there is no true power there. So good and just in her ways. So perfect. Never cruel to her subjects, heavens no. That is below her. Rather, she kills them out of kindness. No wonder the realm had fallen into shambles. It was her fault that they were attacked by the hounds. If she had taken that little bit of extra time to strike fear into her subjects, spent more of her time protecting them rather than trying to befriend them, she would have saved them. But no, she is too worried about the death of Kale, and the rest of the world. Forget Ni’Srilan. It all seems so clear to him now, and he shakes his head with a bitter laugh, finally seeing the truth for what it is. Or at least, what that broken mind thinks is the truth.

The laugh dies as the fire springs upward around him and for a moment fear of the Queen springs inside him. He stares at the white mare, the earlier patches of sweat breaking across his withers again, across his flanks, and running at his neck. He throws his muzzle up into the air, eyes rolling, looking for some way out of the ring, but there is none. In the process, the bite re-opens, a fresh trail of blood seeping down his throat, staining his broad chest, running down his leg into the dirt. But as Hypatia turns her attention to Saphira, his attention also turns back to the overo mare, and a fresh wave of resentment for Hypatia boils in his chest, pushing the fear out. His lips curl into an angry smirk as he stares at her, feeling the pull of the Circle as she speaks his name.

But remember, my darling Queen, it is the truth as he perceives it. Not the truth of the matter in reality, but as what his fragmented mind sees. And it is not a pretty thing.

“You did nothing wrong, oh mighty Queen. You did nothing.” The implication of his words is obvious and a hard laugh bursts from his lips, his eyes daring her to scorch him, to attack him. What a truly just Queen you will be then, Hypatia. When a follower goes astray, when a follower falls, you do not stop to save them. No, you burn them into a crisp. I’m sure Ni’Srilan would love to know that. He doesn’t understand why she is shouting, but that moment is gone and the next question is on his head, the pull of the fire seething around him.

“I will do as I have been commanded. I will serve Saphira, for she truly cares for me, unlike you, Hypatia. I was just another face to you, was I not? Just another peasant in the realm. But Saphira, Saphira cares for me. I am hers, and she is mine.” His deep voice rings with passion, obsession and obvious delusion. He doesn’t know that Saphira will have other slaves, that she has a lover, and that he was just a means to the end. He doesn’t know that, and believes that she will love him just as much as he loves her. It is odd how quickly such disillusion can taint your thoughts.

The heat of the fire leaps around him, but his eyes are blind to it. But rather than fear her, rather than give her that satisfaction, he laughs. A harsh cawing, a maniacal laugh. A raven would be proud of the noise, for it is of a similar decibel. And finally, her last question. He doesn’t need to answer her aloud, aside from a new roar of laughter. You can see my mind, Hypatia so why don’t you tell me, were we friends? Not from my understanding. I was a loyal servant to you, nothing more. His dark eyes burn brightly as he continues to stare at her, the dare to incinerate him burning brightly. Do it, oh Queen.

You know you want to.

centurion
earth II; air I
tainted