<_< Eh. Well, this is the end. To be completely honest, I hate it. But whatever.
Help?
~*~
There could have been, perhaps, more grace and more brilliancy to the strategy devised; it could have been far grander, and far more effective. But grandeur and brilliancy were not the goals of this strategy, and this was, in many ways, why it succeeded.
A messenger was sent to the J’engar army to tell them to completely encircle the city and to attack everything but the palace—and the night before the attack, the Resistance breached the walls, and silently began their part. Many, if not all, of the Resistance circled the palace inside and out, hidden in the beams of the palace. The ceiling of the palace was supported by numerous large beams, large enough by far for a man to lay upon and be effectively hidden. The Resistance that occupied the outer edges of the palace rested on the roof, with ropes tied to metal pegs driven into the roof’s hard surface so that they could easily and quickly descend to the ground.
Daeun, Ianna, and the rest of their odd J’engar-Talon crew were arranged within the throne room, with Daeun just before the throne, and the rest of them ranged behind him. In this manner they waited; they waited for the king and his court to appear in the morning, as they always did, when the sun was a quarter of the way above the mountains. The J’engar had strict orders to move in silently and invisibly and to refrain from attacking until the precise hour the court convened.
The purpose of this strategy was not to kill off the entire court and the king all at once, but rather an effort to contain them, so that Daeun might speak with them without interruption of the violent sort.
They watched from above as the court officials trickled in, and then, finally, King Anull, waddling to his throne clad in golden robes and with the silver-blue crown of Talon resting on his head. Ianna and Taejon got to work, hands moving quickly, lips forming silent words, encasing the throne room in an unbreakable shell. They could not afford to allow Oiden inside.
Just as King Anull made it to the throne—Daeun could not think of it as Anull’s throne—Daeun gave the signal; and as one every man and woman in the rafters leapt downward.
The court screamed, recoiling, and Anull whipped around, eyes wide with shock. “Hello, majesty,” Daeun sneered, glaring down into Anull’s pudgy face.
“Lord Genor!” Anull shouted. “What are you doing?”
“I’m here to reclaim my throne, of course,” Daeun said, and the court gasped aloud. Anull’s mouth flapped open, then shut again.
“You are not in line for the throne,” Anull snapped. “What do you plan to do, take it from me?”
“Only if I must,” Daeun said peacefully. “Surrounding Tvaar are the J’engar armies—and surrounding my palace is the Resistance. They are attacking at this very moment, and your precious Gaenu are off trying to kill us in Eevar.”
Anull’s face slowly turned a mottled, enraged red, his jowls shaking minutely. “Traitor!” Anull hissed, spittle flying everywhere.
“Traitor? I think not.” Daeun spun away from him, facing the court. “After rescuing the J’engar king from Anull’s prison, I took him to a safe haven in the mountains,” he said, his voice carrying easily. They were silent, staring at him, listening intently. “That safe haven is a castle, long forgotten by time and by the false kings. Deep within that castle is a library, and on its walls is the history of Talon.” He spread his arms wide. “You’ve heard the stories, sung the songs—you know what they say of the blue king!”
Abruptly whispers began to flood the room, heads turning this way and that as if to ascertain each neighbor’s opinion.
“They say the outlaw prince was sent to the sands!” Daeun shouted over the echo of the whispers. “This is a falsehood! The traitor sent the crown prince and his men to the desert—only the bravest of Talon could survive, to become J’engar!”
The whispers increased, until he had to raise his hands for silence. “There are countless tales of the royal light. When has Anull ever shown himself capable of such a feat?”
“Fairy tales!” a court official shouted. “There is no such light.”
“Tell them, Anull,” Daeun said instead, turning back to Anull. “Tell them how you cannot use the Light, and so use a sorcerer to do your bidding.”
“The Light,” Anull said angrily, “never existed!”
“No?” Daeun held out his hand, palm upward. “Than what is this, pray tell?” In his palm exploded a light, rising high and brilliant above their heads, bathing them in blue-white light. More than a few officials fell to their knees immediately, and the rest stood shocked and staring up at the orb.
“Before I press forward,” Daeun said, standing beneath the orb, so that his hair and face and clothes appeared to be blue, “I should tell you why I began this journey.”
“Evidence for the execution!” Anull shouted, but no one paid him heed.
“When I became a man,” Daeun said, “I received a message from the Goddess. Her message was simple—retake the throne. Tell me, who here will argue with the Goddess?”
“How do we know you to be truthful?” an official cried. “We have never heard of anyone receiving messages from the gods—”
“You will know him by the Light!” a voice like thunder shouted, making the throne room shake and rock. “Is this not the message I commanded to be repeated, again and again, until one of the royal blood stood up to retake the throne? Above you is the Light—and yet you defy him, and me!” The last word drove them all to their knees, for within the Light was a woman, too bright for them to look at, her anger striking at their skin ruthlessly.
“Goddess,” Daeun said, looking up at her as if she were not exuding light at all, but merely floating above them. “I have done as you asked.”
“And well,” the Goddess said, in a different sort of voice, calm and almost affectionate. “Take the crown, Daeun, and sit down upon your throne.”
Abruptly the throne that had resided there—the ugly, twisted symbol of Anull’s reign—was gone, and in its place stood a brilliantly white throne, a sapphire-carved image of a crown set into its highest point. The crown lifted itself off of Anull’s stunned head, and fitted itself snugly down about Daeun’s ears; and slowly, as if he could not quite believe that he was doing it, Daeun advanced to the throne and very gently sat down.
The Goddess vanished, leaving them weak and blinded, though the Light continued to shine; and among those who remained standing was Ianna, who made her way to Daeun, picking her way through cast-down court officials.
“As I said, my love,” Ianna breathed, kissing him, “you are king.”
