Post by Edie on Oct 24, 2010 11:15:28 GMT -8
It wasn’t often that the young Countess hesitated. A lady who acted quickly, spoke plainly, and cared not one whit about the feelings of others: that was Theo, through and through and through. Mother had raised her well enough, given the many circumstantial setbacks. She had molded her into a creature who, if neither male nor legitimate, was at the very least not ashamed of these distasteful facts. And when one had no shame, then one considered oneself the equal—if not the superior—of most persons one was to interact with, yes? Mmm, indeed. Well done, Mother.
Yet here she was, sitting at her dressing table with her brow furrowed in concentration and her hand wavering in indecision over the modest assortment of daggers. The girl felt like such an utter fool, seeing as she was completely unable to make a decision on which weapon would be most suitable to bring into the bedchamber. True, this one with the slim blade and the short hilt was certainly slight enough to escape detection for a crucial minute or two; but was it sharp enough to kill a grown man instantaneously? Or would she have to make several attacks, and risk having him get away—again?
Theo was fairly certain other girls of sixteen didn’t have the same concerns on such a regular basis as she did. Then again, most other girls had fathers who were married to their mothers (or at the very least pretended to be in love with them), not kings who had sired them after noticing the fine haunches of the nearest lady in waiting. And most other girls did not antagonize their fathers, at the goading of their mothers, about their illegitimate status until their fathers married them off to lecherous bachelors three times their age when they were only just twelve. True, the marriage had given her a title and a bit more freedom, political and otherwise, than she had had when she was simply “the bastard daughter of the Silian King.” Well done, Daddy dearest.
She picked up the next knife and examined its thickness in the mirror. Now, here was a weapon that would finish the cretin off thoroughly, provided he pawed at her long enough for her to remove it from its hiding place. Though that was the trouble—where could she conceal it, where would his wandering hands fail to detect it? The Countess rolled her icy eyes in irritation. Nowhere, that t’was where, and unfortunately. This particular dagger would be found in an instant. And he would laugh upon discovering it, as he had laughed every time he had foiled her attempts to get rid of him in the past four years. Then he would proceed with the violation, despite her indignation, as he had every time in the past four years.
“Are you coming to bed, Wife?”
Theo shuddered, looking every inch a teenaged lass who knew nothing of murder plots and nothing of the intricacies of married life. “Soon enough, Husband,” she replied, not even bothering to conceal the disdain in her voice. The Count knew her feelings well enough; there was no point in trying to convince him she would not attempt to finish him this evening. “Just let me choose the best way to kill you tonight, and I shall be right in.”
The girl bristled at his laughter as it echoed off the stone walls, and angrily grabbed at the first dagger. The odds were stacked high enough against her that it truly did not matter which one she chose; and if tonight was the night she did succeed, then she would receive immense pleasure from stabbing the bastard multiple times.
OOC: Since I'm a lurker guest, this would be the half-sister of Rian who is intent on marrying him when her 40-some-year-old husband "drops dead". If you'd like some writing on why this is Theo's plan after disposing of the Count, I'd be more than happy to oblige; this just seemed like a good place to stop narratively.
Yet here she was, sitting at her dressing table with her brow furrowed in concentration and her hand wavering in indecision over the modest assortment of daggers. The girl felt like such an utter fool, seeing as she was completely unable to make a decision on which weapon would be most suitable to bring into the bedchamber. True, this one with the slim blade and the short hilt was certainly slight enough to escape detection for a crucial minute or two; but was it sharp enough to kill a grown man instantaneously? Or would she have to make several attacks, and risk having him get away—again?
Theo was fairly certain other girls of sixteen didn’t have the same concerns on such a regular basis as she did. Then again, most other girls had fathers who were married to their mothers (or at the very least pretended to be in love with them), not kings who had sired them after noticing the fine haunches of the nearest lady in waiting. And most other girls did not antagonize their fathers, at the goading of their mothers, about their illegitimate status until their fathers married them off to lecherous bachelors three times their age when they were only just twelve. True, the marriage had given her a title and a bit more freedom, political and otherwise, than she had had when she was simply “the bastard daughter of the Silian King.” Well done, Daddy dearest.
She picked up the next knife and examined its thickness in the mirror. Now, here was a weapon that would finish the cretin off thoroughly, provided he pawed at her long enough for her to remove it from its hiding place. Though that was the trouble—where could she conceal it, where would his wandering hands fail to detect it? The Countess rolled her icy eyes in irritation. Nowhere, that t’was where, and unfortunately. This particular dagger would be found in an instant. And he would laugh upon discovering it, as he had laughed every time he had foiled her attempts to get rid of him in the past four years. Then he would proceed with the violation, despite her indignation, as he had every time in the past four years.
“Are you coming to bed, Wife?”
Theo shuddered, looking every inch a teenaged lass who knew nothing of murder plots and nothing of the intricacies of married life. “Soon enough, Husband,” she replied, not even bothering to conceal the disdain in her voice. The Count knew her feelings well enough; there was no point in trying to convince him she would not attempt to finish him this evening. “Just let me choose the best way to kill you tonight, and I shall be right in.”
The girl bristled at his laughter as it echoed off the stone walls, and angrily grabbed at the first dagger. The odds were stacked high enough against her that it truly did not matter which one she chose; and if tonight was the night she did succeed, then she would receive immense pleasure from stabbing the bastard multiple times.
OOC: Since I'm a lurker guest, this would be the half-sister of Rian who is intent on marrying him when her 40-some-year-old husband "drops dead". If you'd like some writing on why this is Theo's plan after disposing of the Count, I'd be more than happy to oblige; this just seemed like a good place to stop narratively.
