Chapter 47: Chapter Forty Seven
Raphael's eyes fluttered open, his calm expression causing no wrinkles or fine lines to appear on his face. His eyes had changed, their natural colour getting drowned out by flickers of green and hazel.
"This is all you were after…" Raphael breathed.
Sir Lucian didn't hear him and leaned over the boy, telling him to repeat himself.
Raphael took a long breath, arched his head to meet Sir Lucian's ears, and said, "This is what my Father was after? This is what he was trying to help you achieve?"
Raphael had flipped them in one swift movement, so he leant over Sir Lucian, a hand gripped around his throat. His rage could no longer be contained as his jewel became so blinding that it was hard to see even Sir Lucian.
The young thief could not explain what drove his actions, why the sudden lust to cause bloodshed, to squeeze the knight's neck until his face turned purple seemed so appealing. He couldn't pinpoint where all this anger was coming from, but at that moment, he felt at his happiest. His actions causing the biggest release of catharsis he had ever had.
You're not a murderer, though… The thought was so small Raphael almost missed it. You are angry, messed up, and have something wrong with you, but you're not a murderer; you're not a psychopath. Raphael felt his desire grow weaker and weaker until his hands merely rested on the knight's throat, who was too shocked to attempt to flee. This isn't you. This is someone else.
"Raphael! Stop this!" someone demanded.
Raphael almost didn't recognise the voice, hearing a familiar deep voice of a man in his mind.
Distracted, Raphael felt someone hit him from the side. It merely put him off balance as Maria clung to his shoulders, unaffected by the still bright light.
"Raphael! Stop this! This isn't you!" She was in tears, the pitch of her voice becoming overbearing as Raphael released Sir Lucian to aid the ear she yelled in. "Raphael, this isn't you! Stop this now!" Maria shook his shoulders.
Raphael felt strange. He almost didn't recognise Maria but was shaken by how beautiful he suddenly thought she was. A mixture of memory, uncertainty and a wave of affection enveloped him.
Raphael went to push Maria off again but felt someone jump on his back. In one second, his vision cleared, and the voice in his head vanished. Anita was hanging from his back, the crown in one hand. It glowed profusely to the beat of a quick heartbeat.
Raphael was in a cold sweat and panting, grabbing at the pendent and attempting to pull it off. Maria pulled it off and hugged Raphael as he calmed down. The lights started to fade, returning the platform to its original darker state.
That was intense… Raphael thought. His hands trembled, covered in his own blood from his palms, he gulped.
"Raphael…?" Anita stood away from him, still holding the crown, her eyes glassy and expressed such a genuine sense of fear. It took Raphael's breath away faster than the jewels.
"Anita… I-"
Sir Lucian coughed, still keeled over, holding his throat and dismissing those who tried to aid him. His wheezes turned back into laughter as he stood up. "Well, that was quite the rush, wasn't it," he coughed. His breaths were short as a hand rested below where he was choked. "Pity. I thought it may have worked. You two seemed to have so much in common."
"Doesn't matter how much they have in common." Anita's voice echoed in the space. "The hex isn't strong enough to take over someone's mind. Certainly not completely, at least."
Sir Lucian smirked, his attention focused on her. "Have a look at your friends, girlie. They're drained from its power," he informed.
Raphael wanted to object, but Sir Lucian wasn't wrong. Maria was still pale and held him weakly, and he doubted he would be able to stand up just yet.
"My statement still stands," Anita said, a little louder, "The Unknown Royal can't take over an established mind. How strong could the hexes be?"
"Anita, what're you talking about?" Maria asked.
"Claude Albrecht is in the jewels," Raphael breathed. He recalled the first voice in his head, demanding to be free, and the sudden spout of anger he had somehow justified in a blink of an eye. "Or some sort of copy of him is." His head started to throb.
"I finally understood what the witches had done," Anita said. Still holding the crown, she stood up and looked at the still shining jewel. "The Ring is the product of him, his hatred, his insecurities, his desire, the Crown was King Phillip's, and the pendant was the Queen's. His plan was the make King Phillip II wear all of these, take over his mind and be the King."
Sir Lucian's smile became genuine as he considered Anita, "Indeed, little girl. I'm almost impressed."
Anita shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable with the stare. Raphael managed to kneel and come between the two. "This is sick, you know that?" Raphael asked, "Kidnapping the suspected-proven-to-not-be-true Lost Royal, the Queen and a couple of Parisians all so you can bring back the bastard child of a century-old King to become the new King? How has no one realised what a bad idea that is?"
"It is the destiny of our King," he countered firmly, a new form of insanity forming in his eyes. "The spell must've worn down over the last few centuries. But you've proven that there's still something there. That our King is still there." He seemed to steady his breathing and approached the locket Maria had discarded to the floor. "You've already summoned the magic. It's just a matter of trying until he breaks through one of your minds. After all, if the Lost Royal is really dead like you say, it doesn't matter what we do, does it?"
Maria was ripped away from Raphael, both unable to stop them, as he was forced back to his feet.
Raphael clenched his jaw, his nerves tingling from the recent burning sensation.
Sir Lucian grabbed Raphael's hand and took the ring off him, allowing him a moment of relief from the tension running throughout his body. He shared a concerned glance with Maria, having a similar thought that they would try them on her again.
Examining the ring, Sir Lucian walked to Anita to collect the crown. She had one knight standing behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder to keep her from running away. He kneeled to her and grabbed the crown from her. The little girl refused to let the crown go, the pair tug-o-waring with it before Sir Lucian snatched it from her. When the three jewels came close, they glowed in recognition of each other.
He held the crown, quickly examining it before holding it out and fitting it gently on Anita's head.
The motion petrified her to the spot as the knight fixed parts of her hair.
Raphael's rage returned, "Don't touch her!" He attempted to go after him but was too weak and was pushed to the ground by a soft shove. The Unknown Royal held his sword at him. The threat didn't silence him. "Don't you dare touch her!"
Sir Lucian ignored the thief as he placed the necklace over Anita's head. When the locket rested against her chest, Anita wheezed, forced forwards, having trouble breathing.
"Argh!" Raphael tried getting up but was struck down.
Sir Lucian teasing Raphael with gentle, delicate gestures like brushing Anita's blonde hair out from under the necklace and away from her face.
Anita started sobbing as her hands pressed against the sides of her head. Ignoring her distress, Sir Lucian balanced the ring on one of her fingers, as they were just too small for it to fit naturally. Unlike Maria and Raphael, Anita didn't create a blinding glow; she started wailing. She collapsed to the ground, her limbs trembling as she squealed at the top of her lungs.
Raphael felt tears come to his eyes, seeing her in pain and being unable to do anything to stop them. He continued struggling, ignoring the blade pressing against his back.
Eventually, Anita fell silent, the occasional sniff being all she could muster. "I imagine a child must be easier to push through, right smarty-pants?"
Raphael could feel his heart beating painfully in his chest. The contrast of cold stone against his sweating skin was uncomfortable. He breathed heavily through his teeth as he strained to stand up, only to be struck back down again by the knight. The centre of his back throbbed.
Anita's muscles twitched every few seconds until she lost all expression and stopped moving. With each blink, her eyes turned a prominent shade of green from its usual blue. She picked herself off the ground and wobbled where she stood, displaying a moment of dizziness. She rubbed her eyes as if she woke up.
She looked down at her attire, her slightly dirtied, tattered white dress and acknowledged her hair with a weird look. "This is very peculiar…" she admitted her accent, a strange mixture of French and German. In another spout of confusion, she wiped the tears still on her cheeks, no longer interested in crying. She looked to the knights behind her, "You dare to simply stand there like a jester!" Her voice attempted a commanding tone, but only a little girl came out as a childish shriek. Despite this, the knights jumped. "Bow in the presence of your King!"
They obeyed, immediately kneeling before her and bowing their heads. Even when they did this, Anita was barely taller than them.
"May I ask whom I am in the presence of?" Sir Lucian asked.
Anita turned on her heel, her eyes glowing with anger. "You dare not recognise your rightful ruler? I am Claude Albrecht. King of my Mother's people, and rightful heir to the Parisian Empire." She stood directly before Sir Lucian; if she was a man, she'd be looking him in the eye. "I am the Unknown Prince."
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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