The Seeds of Madness (Mercy Thompson)
Title: The Seeds of Madness
Rating: PG-13 for general creepiness
Word Count: 639
Genre: General?
Summary: A short encounter with Lily leaves Wulfe more shaken than he'd ever admit.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
For Mary-Jane, my partner in fangirling ^^
Wulfe knew it wasn’t immediately obvious who held the reins in the seethe. Marsilia ruled by status and fear, but no one, not even the highest ranking of the soldiers, noticed how much the Wizard at her shoulder manipulated every situation to suit himself. Marsilia was damn lucky he was loyal to her - or at least, smart enough not to oppose her - because with the power that came with his talents, that intoxicating rush of sheer control... the seethe was his, if he wanted it.
Fortunately for the Mistress, it was easier just to let her play her little games. Ruling from the shadows suited him just fine, Marsilia’s antics sometimes even bordering on entertaining.
It wasn’t as if it would be difficult to dispose of her if he tired of this charade.
Perhaps he could turn her murder into a game of his own. Implicate several others while removing all evidence of his own involvement, and watch from the sidelines with his hands on the strings.
Just imagining it made the corner of his lips twitch, and he lengthened his stride as he ghosted through the winding corridors of the mansion.
“You know, your smirk is prettier than your smile,” came an airy voice from the open door of one of the rooms as he passed.
Wulfe stopped dead in his tracks, knowing that it was him being addressed - he could only sense one presence nearby, and even Lily rarely talked to herself.
He glanced into the room. Unsurprisingly, she was at the piano, though for once she wasn’t playing it. Instead, she was just lying on her back on top of the instrument, her hair cascading past the keys to the ground, her face upside-down and facing the doorway.
“Don’t even think of saying you’re not that pretty!” she exclaimed suddenly. “That’s what all the pretty little birds say.”
Wulfe merely cocked an eyebrow, deeming it beneath him to give a response. The mad girl was entertaining in her own way, but there was no sense in paying her ramblings any attention.
She suddenly flipped onto her stomach, a few scraps of the ripped dress she was wearing floating to the floor at the sudden movement. “Why are you here anyway?” she asked, the innocent, bloodstained smile she gave him sending a shiver down his spine for the first time in years.
“Isn’t someone always supposed to keep an eye on you, sweetling?” he replied, voice thick with false sincerity.
Just like that, she was in front of him, inhaling deeply into his neck, close enough that he could smell the blood on her lips, reminding him how long it had been since he’d fed. “Don’t pretend that’s what you want,” she whispered, and she was too close, too close but she was gone before he could push her away, giggling childishly as she twirled on the spot at the other side of the room.
Her eyes snapped open, and he found himself reflected in their empty gaze, as she uttered another meaningless phrase that rang too true, and then another, echoing in the air around him as she disappeared from the room with another manic laugh and how did she know?
“Pretty little birds don’t like cages.”
He forced himself to back out of the room and move on. Nothing got under his skin, they were empty words she only half understood, he had no reason to fear and yet-
“Pretty little birds don’t like seeing others like them in a cage either.”
Maybe, thought Wulfe with a twinge of satisfaction, he could make her one of the helpless puppets in his future games. He resumed his planning, as that little seed of madness in the back of his mind burrowed just a little deeper, and a certain ghostly laugh still resounded in his ears.
END
A/N: Well this appeared because apparently my muses only exist if I have something else I should REALLY be doing. Then Mary-Jane offered to draw requests and I offered to write fic in exchange and all of a sudden I did something productive for once except it wasn't the right kind of productivity so that still kind of failed. Oh well this exists now. Yay!
Also I just noticed that I used both "little bird" and "sweetling" here, apparently Lily is actually Sansa Stark in disguise. Who knew?!
Rating: PG-13 for general creepiness
Word Count: 639
Genre: General?
Summary: A short encounter with Lily leaves Wulfe more shaken than he'd ever admit.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
For Mary-Jane, my partner in fangirling ^^
Wulfe knew it wasn’t immediately obvious who held the reins in the seethe. Marsilia ruled by status and fear, but no one, not even the highest ranking of the soldiers, noticed how much the Wizard at her shoulder manipulated every situation to suit himself. Marsilia was damn lucky he was loyal to her - or at least, smart enough not to oppose her - because with the power that came with his talents, that intoxicating rush of sheer control... the seethe was his, if he wanted it.
Fortunately for the Mistress, it was easier just to let her play her little games. Ruling from the shadows suited him just fine, Marsilia’s antics sometimes even bordering on entertaining.
It wasn’t as if it would be difficult to dispose of her if he tired of this charade.
Perhaps he could turn her murder into a game of his own. Implicate several others while removing all evidence of his own involvement, and watch from the sidelines with his hands on the strings.
Just imagining it made the corner of his lips twitch, and he lengthened his stride as he ghosted through the winding corridors of the mansion.
“You know, your smirk is prettier than your smile,” came an airy voice from the open door of one of the rooms as he passed.
Wulfe stopped dead in his tracks, knowing that it was him being addressed - he could only sense one presence nearby, and even Lily rarely talked to herself.
He glanced into the room. Unsurprisingly, she was at the piano, though for once she wasn’t playing it. Instead, she was just lying on her back on top of the instrument, her hair cascading past the keys to the ground, her face upside-down and facing the doorway.
“Don’t even think of saying you’re not that pretty!” she exclaimed suddenly. “That’s what all the pretty little birds say.”
Wulfe merely cocked an eyebrow, deeming it beneath him to give a response. The mad girl was entertaining in her own way, but there was no sense in paying her ramblings any attention.
She suddenly flipped onto her stomach, a few scraps of the ripped dress she was wearing floating to the floor at the sudden movement. “Why are you here anyway?” she asked, the innocent, bloodstained smile she gave him sending a shiver down his spine for the first time in years.
“Isn’t someone always supposed to keep an eye on you, sweetling?” he replied, voice thick with false sincerity.
Just like that, she was in front of him, inhaling deeply into his neck, close enough that he could smell the blood on her lips, reminding him how long it had been since he’d fed. “Don’t pretend that’s what you want,” she whispered, and she was too close, too close but she was gone before he could push her away, giggling childishly as she twirled on the spot at the other side of the room.
Her eyes snapped open, and he found himself reflected in their empty gaze, as she uttered another meaningless phrase that rang too true, and then another, echoing in the air around him as she disappeared from the room with another manic laugh and how did she know?
“Pretty little birds don’t like cages.”
He forced himself to back out of the room and move on. Nothing got under his skin, they were empty words she only half understood, he had no reason to fear and yet-
“Pretty little birds don’t like seeing others like them in a cage either.”
Maybe, thought Wulfe with a twinge of satisfaction, he could make her one of the helpless puppets in his future games. He resumed his planning, as that little seed of madness in the back of his mind burrowed just a little deeper, and a certain ghostly laugh still resounded in his ears.
END
A/N: Well this appeared because apparently my muses only exist if I have something else I should REALLY be doing. Then Mary-Jane offered to draw requests and I offered to write fic in exchange and all of a sudden I did something productive for once except it wasn't the right kind of productivity so that still kind of failed. Oh well this exists now. Yay!
Also I just noticed that I used both "little bird" and "sweetling" here, apparently Lily is actually Sansa Stark in disguise. Who knew?!