A Royal Pain" by;Fjm

  The atmosphere was leaden with an aura of pure terror. This was the kind of fear that churned deep within a person’s gut and seemed to add suffocating weight to the lungs, making each breath an almost painful labor; the kind of fear that held the heart in its icy claw. But Sara was used to this. The feeling was always present when her King was there, and she had experienced it often enough to be able to ignore its effects almost completely. In fact, she somewhat enjoyed it: The fear meant that he was with her, that she once again had the opportunity to look upon his face.
    And what a divine face it was! The man who stood so breathtakingly close to her could only be described as flawless. His pale, porcelain skin contrasted exquisitely with the midnight black curtain of hair which fell around the contours of his cheeks. He was tall; lean. There was an overwhelming sense of power in his stance, hinting at all the damage he was capable of. The only oddity of his features were the two crimson horns jutting from his forehead. These were as much an enigma today as they were the first time she had seen them.
    “It took you long enough,” she said to him in a cool voice after a few moments. Her attitude was an act, of course. It was all part of the twisted game they played. The King would abuse her, both mentally and physically, and Sara would pretend to hate him for it. But they both knew it was a lie. In truth, Sara loved the King; loved him with a fervor that bordered on obsession.
    “Long time no see,” he greeted. His manner was somewhat cocky, as usual. “You’ve been stirring up some real trouble, you know. I’m impressed.”
    There were several things he could be referring to, and none of them were good. “Trouble with whom?”
    Leroy chuckled. “For starters, the Queen. She’s very angry with you. Mad enough to kill, I’d say.” There was a trace of something in his voice that Sara didn’t like. Something buried under his arrogant air. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she knew it must be important. After all, this was only the second time he’d allowed her to see his true form, which at least meant that he’d be talking to her today.
    “Well, that’s your fault, isn’t it? If you weren’t always trying to screw with my head, I might actually know what’s going on for a change.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking into his fiery red eyes. “Besides, you’re the King. Why can’t you just kill her and get it over with? She’s after you, too, I believe.”
    Leroy grinned that reckless grin of his. “Oh, the thought of crushing the life from that bitch… But,” he sighed dramatically, “I’m afraid it’s against the rules.”
    Sara snorted. “Since when do you play by the rules?” From the day she had met him, the King had done nothing but follow his own whims. As ironic as it seemed, anarchy suited him. Disarray and chaos were as much a part of him as his name.
    “I don’t,” he stated simply. “But in this game, cheating isn’t an option. Which is why I need… an assistant, of sorts.”
    “You mean me.” A little thrill of excitement swept through her, but she kept her expression calm. She knew that whatever little scheme he had in mind was dangerous, that she could very well end up dying. However, Sara had never had much self-preservation when it came to adventure. Especially if that adventure happened to be Leroy.
    The King looked at her, and while his countenance was one of lazy amusement, it seemed to belie something far more sinister. “Precisely. But first, I need to know: How far are you willing to go to serve me, Princess?”
    Sara shifted uncomfortably at this nickname and all that it implied. It reminded her once more of how little she really knew about him, of how much might be at stake if her friend’s prophecy was correct. Regicide. The word echoed unpleasantly in her mind. Surely someone as powerful as Leroy couldn’t be killed, but nevertheless it was an idea that haunted her. “Too far,” she answered finally.
    The smirk that lit on Leroy’s lips suggested that he had already known what her response would be. “Very well. Then it is now your formal duty to kill the Queen.”
    This was so sudden, that it took her a moment to process the words. “But… I can rarely ever lay a hit on you, much less do any damage. And she’s just as powerful.” It wasn’t that she feared the Queen. Sara had faced her several times already, and quite enjoyed trying to escape from her many minions. She just didn’t understand why Leroy would use her to fight such an unbeatable opponent.
    “This is a game about choosing the players,” Leroy told her. (She had long since discovered that everything in this world was a game.) “Think of it this way: When two people are playing chess, the players don’t harm each other to win, do they? Of course not. They use their playing pieces. Alternatively, the players don’t wipe out their opponent’s pieces by force. It’s all about strategy.”
    “Are you saying that she can’t touch me?”
    “Oh, she can touch you all she wants. She just can’t be the one to kill you.” How reassuring.
    “Great. What else do I need to know?” Sara noticed with some despair that the air had taken on a hazy, shimmering quality. She would be returning to her world soon.
    “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. You’ll have to work out the details on your own.”
    She huffed. “Fine. At least tell me this,” Sara paused, looking into his eyes as if she expected the answer to be written within their fiery depths. All she saw was mischief and bloodlust. “Which chess piece am I?”
    He smiled broadly, teasingly, and this image was the last thing she saw before emerging from the dream. In her dark room, his response resounded through the shadows: “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”