Serpent(i)s in Paradise
The night before the wedding
The ship slid through the murky waters of the Sirion River, ripping through the mist. The ripped sails dancing with the wind, the oars in their perfect timing led by men of beautiful brown skin, much like the mud of Abilotiel. They rowed and sang with a clumsy voice, a sacred and profane mantra.
"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Iku-Turso R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Ghor Ault R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."
The chant strengthened the Great Maharshi, his body now strong again, his unwavering will shining in his blue eyes. If there was some Elvish magic protecting Avamar, it had been broken long ago, for only the frogs croaked as the ship slid to the less guarded banks of Montijo. When the first curious peasants arrived, the High Priest took his hand out of the robe and poured silver coins to them; he would need good horses to reach Krimml in time. It was not his wish to interrupt the ceremony and steal all attention, but he needed to see his son. The right time would be shown to him, just as the crow above him would show the way.
Traveling with the stars, he entered Krimml in the evening. More silver coins guaranteed few questions. Besides, there was something disturbing about him. The men were naturally intimidated by that grey hair and those ancient blue eyes. His age revealed the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires. There was an impression that where he passed, children cried, the milk soured and the dogs growled with fear. He was the personification of the Old Gods, of ancient terrors and bloody sacrifices. He dragged his black and crimson robe along the streets like a plague spreading its pestilence through the festive city. His eight servants followed him, always repeating the mantra. For a moment he stared at the crowd waiting for the wedding and he had a glimpse, a feeling of someone familiar. Nesrah hid quickly in the mob, impressed by seeing a Serpentis again. Not someone without importance like the bastards, but one who, in comparison, eclipsed his gifts and made him look just like a child learning his first tricks. The Maharshi finally approached the guards at the doors of the great hall.
Guard: “The wedding is over, old man. There is nothing else here for you.â€
The servants stopped singing and Yeux raised his face to face the guard, making him shiver under his armor.
Yeux: “I’m Yeux Serpentis, Last King of Melhed and Great Maharshi of the Bloodspeakers. Let me in, blood-sack. I’m here to see my son.â€
The marriage was over, the night had already thrown its darkness on Krimml and the couple must have been enjoying a sweet embrace. Yeux didn’t want to disturb. He could scarcely remember the warm touch of his Queen or any other woman, but he knew how important that was to his lineage. Also, for someone given as dead, he wanted to see the surprise in the eyes of the young Wolf Prince. So, in a library or dark office, he waited, for there was not a man brave enough to say no to the older Serpentis alive, especially in Krimml, where Erik had exerted the pinnacle of his power.
