“Nope” 

 

It was a simple term, followed by a simple action. Estaria stood up and, changing her heels into flat shoes, headed out of the door, slamming it open.

 

“Where are you going?” Filnon asked, scurrying off after her.

“To kill Malekith” Es replied. That brought eyes on her, both seen and unseen. 

“You can’t just go up there and kill him! He’s got legions of bodyguards! Cadres of assassins!” Filnon pleaded. Weakness, in the eyes of her peers, was disgusting. And then, just to tilt the perception, she pulled a pair of swords out. “I will stop you, if you try”

 

Estaria would stop at that, and turn around, raising an eyebrow.

“Really? You think you can?” Estaria asked, cocking her head.

“You are mine. My property, which means your actions reflect poorly on me. Which means I will stop you, there is no question about that” Filnon’s voice, turning cool and harsh, rung through the streets. They had since attracted the city guard, and from the looks of it even a Dreadsword Lordling who was looking to get ahead in life. Nobody made a move yet, however.

 

Estaria would pull out a huge Greatsword of her own, and pointed it at Filnon. The size and weight of it meant nothing to her, it seemed.

“I won’t mess around like I do in the Arena, Filnon. I will just kill you if you get in the way of this” Es warned. But Filnon did not move, and so with a sigh, she would just nod. And then it began. The closest Druchii were blown back from the shockwave of the two moving at a speed even the Lordling could not keep up with. The sound of clashing steel rang out with a tempo of a demented drummer, both showing off capabilities the surrounding people could merely watch on in vein.

 

Then the fight moved, Filnon sliding back to get some range and being pursued by Estaria, who was then pushed back in return. The high mobile, dynamic fight swiftly changed locale, from the ground to the rooftops to the air itself as these two monsters clashed against each other. Despite their best attempts, the crowd quickly found itself left in the dust. The sound of clashing blades fading away into the distance. Even the unseen eyes, flitting at a sprint, could not keep up with them enough to report accurately on what was going on. The only thing that could be considered a trail were the flecks of blood here and there. 

 

By the time they did catch up, it was all over. A mile outside the city, Filnon was standing over Estaria’s corpse. They were both battered, cut in several positions, with Filnon having one particularly nasty one running down her side. But Estaria was worse off, with a stab clean through the heart. 

 

“A shame” came a comment from the shadows. The fact that they were in the middle of the tundra with nothing around them to cast shadows, didn’t matter. He hid within his own name. 

“I’m in no mood for your tricks today, Shadowblade. Just take me to Malekith” Filnon would reply, putting the swords back.

“I can’t simply take you there. But I shall bring the Sickle’s body to him, and we shall welcome you later today” Shadowblade would finally step out of the shadows to pick up the body, and then disappear again.

 

With him, and her gone, Filnon would return the way she came, and enter the city. There were the usual fans and adorants for a great fight, and those who celebrated her defending Malekith’s honour, and those who had her as the peak of how a person should treat their slaves. Not wanting to ruin the appearance, she waved and smiled, and then collapsed on the bed when she got in and went to sleep.

 

She was woken a few hours later, by a knock. Getting up and groggily opening the door, it was an invitation to dinner in her honour at the Palace. She invited the man in to have some tea while she cleaned herself up, and got dressed. The streets were lined with people who were trying to get a sight of the woman who had killed the Sickle of Khaine. She waved to them and did the whole thing, before finally getting into the Palace and directed up to a nice little dining room. Just her, him, and his personal chef who was bringing food out of her kitchen. She would take a seat, and when the soup course was brought out, and he took the first spoonful, Filnon would speak.

 

“You are the real Malekith?”

The man would stop a moment, and then nod. 

“Yes” he would speak. His voice, was a ghost passing through the walls. Barely there enough to be heard. 

“Good. Now. Why have you done this to Druchii society?” she would ask him, sipping on her soup.

“The…Asyurani, betrayed me?” he would state, though Filnon raised her eyebrow.

“That’s a question?” she asked, rhetorical but getting a reply anyway.

“Yes”

 

Filnon would sigh and fall back on her chair, shaking her head. 

“You don’t even know, do you? You are-”

“I do not” 

 

The interruption, made Filnon laugh. Softly at first, but breaking into a fit as it went on. 

“All this effort, to get here. To drug you. To finally hear the truth, and you don’t even know it!” Filnon exclaimed through her laughter. Finishing her soup, she would wave down for the next course, laughing softly to herself all the while.

 

“This is just great. Everything went off without a hitch, and now I am left not even wanting to kill you because your current state of being is worse than anything I could do with any implement. You are probably the for-now-cautious puppet of the Dreadlords, huh?” Filnon would ask. Rhetorical for now, but again getting a response.

“Yes”

 

Filnon would smirk and keep eating dinner. It was really well cooked. It was good to be the King. 

“So when did this all start? I can’t imagine your reputation’s been a fabrication since the start” she asked.

“Forty two days ago” he would reply. It was nice, and accurate, though it did raise an eyebrow as she counted the days.

“That’s about a week after Morathi died. The one person who has been with you since the start. The one person to avoid your temper. And you aren’t romantic enough to care about your mother. Any ideas about how she managed that?” Filnon asked. Getting into the groove of this, as even open ended or rhetorical questions were answered as well as they could be.

 

“She, advised. Pointed out threats. Stoked the flames. Always another threat. Always something else. Kept us..strong”  he mumbled through an answer, and then ate some steak. The pieces were coming together for Filnon, who nodded softly.

“Spent so long stoking the flames of anger and hatred that there wasn’t anything left but that, huh? So when she died and there was nobody left who knew exactly what buttons to push, you just burned out” 

 

She’d lean back against the chair again, and stare at the ceiling. This was not the culmination of her life’s dream that she was hoping for. Everything, had been for this moment. And what a wet fart of a moment it was, as well. 

 

“You ever had a dream, and your whole life built up to that dream, and then when you get to that moment, it just all falls apart?” Filnon asked. Now, she was just wanting some conversation. Something to cling to as the footholds of her life fell apart around her.

 

“Yes” Malekith would reply. “I wanted to be. The Phoenix King” he would begin to speak with the barest hint of animacy again. “And I was on the way as well, power and reputation and greatness followed me. But, I came home after my excursions to see my home nearly torn asunder by this…Cult of Pleasure. So I took charge of purging them from the lands. This would be the final act that would solidify my foothold as the Phoenix King. But I discovered that it was my Mother who was at the head of this. I dismantled the Cults anyway, and dragged her home to be imprisoned. She promised me the support of the Cults, and I decided to use this to root out those with tendrils within Ulthuan society. 

 

After a few years of gathering and disposing of the infiltrators, I finally came across one at the very top. The Phoenix King. So he was disposed of, and we all gathered to elect the new Phoenix King. It was here, I saw how deeply the rot went. Even those unrelated to the Cult were lackadaisical, uncaring for rulership or administration. They denied me, despite everything! And so I butchered these fools and entered the sacred flame. To be burned alive and reborn as the Phoenix King. Loyalty, however, stabs you when you least expect it. My retainers dragged me from the flames as I was consumed by them, and took me away to recover from the wounds. 

 

Ha! To have everything go right for you, only to be thwarted at the last moment by what you could never predict. Yes, I relate to your situation a lot, Filnon”

 

Malekith, now a little more than he was, stood, and walked to the door. 

“Come. To the arena. I wish to die” he would state, with a touch of vigor and an entire ocean of weariness. Filnon would look to the chef who had been silent until now. She shrugged, and so Filnon headed out. Revenge was one thing, but she was not so cruel as to deny any man their last wish, whoever it was.