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“Why don’t I explain it better for you?” she offered and crossed her arms like she was about to lay out a deal that would take out every competitor on the playing field. “It’s interesting how my mother, Queen Elphaba Phoenix, has gone out of her way to order this runway to happen tonight. Invitations were personally sent out with warnings from Ruby herself, who had to visit over one hundred guests to confirm their attendance. She specifically finalized our measurements so that all our outfits for myself and my entire pack would be ready upon our arrival, only for us to find out when I’m barely dressed that everything was completely burned in a mini fire that destroyed what took weeks to prepare.”
The man looked even more nervous as the corners of Willow’s lips crept up while her eyes simply flickered with immense hate.
“My dear sister is now having a mental fucking breakdown because she spent weeks of her fucking time balancing everything else happening in this forsaken part of our world while trying to figure out who is attempting to frame her as being jealous of her older sister.”
The potential blame being put on Ruby was brought up when the revelation of the fire destroying our entire wardrobe for the night came to light, which Willow immediately shot down and walked out of the room to leave everyone else to deal with it.
A sign she was already done with all this bullshit.
“I find it rather grand, honestly. To think a few rotten eggs could try to pit me against my sister. Is it because we’re only half siblings? Is the grand scheme really that we’ll become enemies? What will happen when I’m sitting upon my destined place? Am I going to find things that don’t belong?”
“I-I can’t answer that,” he answered, but all that did was make Willow laugh as she further whispered, “I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”
He remained silent while his aura tossed in odd directions. His nervous energy gave guilty vibes, but Willow was wanting to pry something out of him.
“I hate wasting my valuable time,” Willow noted the fact. “I also hate rats, but you know what I hate the most?” Her energy couldn’t be more daunting. “Liars.”
The royal advisor simply gulped as he forced himself to remain completely still, even as it got harder and harder to breathe.
“What’s your name?” Willow questioned.
“Mervyn,” he answered before taking a peek into Willow’s gaze and quickly adding, “Mervyn, Princess.”
“Better.” She tried to sweetly smile but you could tell how fake it was. “So tell me, Mervyn. Why do I feel like you’re hiding something important from me?”
“Any valuable information is reserved to be given to the queen only,” he combatted as if it would help him.
“So you’re telling me if I simply call my mother over here, you’d tell her exactly who burned my pack’s clothes for the runway?”
“No, Princess,” he responded and stared back into Willow’s eyes as she peered into them with murderous intent.
“Then why does it feel like you’re lying?” she questioned, and with a blink, she was William again with a cunning smile. “Do you think because you’re not dealing with my half-fae sister that you can lie to me?”
Those orbs of prism narrowed, and it was far too hard to stay still with how the temperature dropped.
“Do I need to repeat myself, Mervyn?” he pondered more to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest while glancing at his knuckles as if he were debating whether punching this fucker to oblivion would be a wrong call.
“N-No, Prince.”
“Then you’ll stop lying to me,”William ordered as his eyes were cloaked with gold.“Or there’ll be consequences.”
Mervyn further tensed up, but it wasn’t because of William’s words. It was thanks to the piercing blade that was mere inches from his neck.
“It really becomes boring watching a weak ass butler of a royal advisor be dishonest to my master.” All I had to do was turn my head just slightly to acknowledge a shirtless Arthur with a black cape on his shoulders.
Scythe in hand and ready to slice this poor man’s neck without a speck of mercy.
"So tell me, Mervyn, was it?” Arthur literally sang as his scythe dug enough to actually cut the man’s flesh.“Who. Burned. Our. Stuff?!”
The scent of Mervyn’s blood began to drift into the air while the silence grew longer and longer.
Until Arthur ran out of actual patience.
He moved his scythe enough to make a deep wound across the man’s neck—leaving him sputtering and clenching it as he dropped to his knees, gasping.
William simply stared down at him with a disappointed look. “You’re gonna die for someone other than the queen you serve,” he mocked with a light chuckle. “Pathetic.”
“I agree,” Arthur cheered and looked over at me. “Oh. Hey, Vikky.”
