some-messed-up-writing-for-you:

Short Prompt #556

“Well, aren’t you pretty~?” - the villain purred, crowding the terrified civilian into a corner, cutting off any means of escape.

Other Villain, who stood beside them, chuckled lightly in agreement as they hungrily eyed Civilian’s shaking body. “The universe must love us for sending such a gorgeous gift into our territory~.”

A terrific prompt! Thanks@some-messed-up-writing-for-you!

“Wait, wait! Please!” The civilian wedged themselves back against the dirty brick, hands out and up. “I… I came here to find you. To ask for your help!”

The villains exchanged a look and burst out laughing. The first one, taller by a fraction of an inch, snaked a hand out to pin one of the civilian’s wrists up against the alley wall. “Sure, cutie,” they said with a sneer. “What can little old us do for [Hero’s] latest squeeze toy?”

“Oh, good, you do know me,” the civilian breathed, eyes glued to the villain’s hand around their wrist. “This’ll sound slightly less - ahaha! - slightly less crazy. Yeah, um. I….”

“Spit it out, doll,” cooed the second villain, faster by a second or so as they caught the civilian’s chin, turned their face to the yellow street light. “My partner asked you a question.”

The civilian closed their eyes. “I need you to kidnap me for real,” they blurted out in a panicked rush.

The villains exchanged another look. This time they did not laugh. “Darling,” the second villain said with decidedly less purr. “Not sure you noticed but we were very much already in the process of kidnapping you.”

“Well you’re going to have to do a lot better than… than stupid flirting,” the civilian snapped, even as their breath came quick and unsteady. “I thought you two were supposed to be good. Or bad. Or whatever!”

“What is happening?” said the first villain very calmly.

“I believe we are still waiting for the looker here to get to the point,” the second villain said. “[Hero] sure doesn’t pick them for their brains.”

“Hero’s planning to have me murdered!” the civilian cried. “And he’s going to pin it on the two of you!”

There was silence in the alley. Somewhere nearby a cat yowled, a car engine roared. The villains did not exchange a look. Their eyes stayed locked on civilian.

“And why should we believe that?” said the first villain, tightening their grip.

The civilian winced. “You know what happened to [Hero’s] last partner.”

“Killed by [Supervillain],” the second villain said through their teeth. “And then [Hero] killed Supervillain on camera. And walked.”

“Well, congrats!” the civilian said with a hysterical wheeze. “Looks like you two are his next big threat.”

“Is [Hero] aware that you know this?” the first villain said sharply.

The civilian tried to pull loose. Both villains hung on. They sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Yes.”

One final time, the villains shared a look. And then the second let go, leaving the first to pull civilian from their corner out to the open. “I think you’re coming with us, gorgeous.”

The civilian gave them a queasy smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”

The minister pointed his finger at the queen. “The poison in your wine could only have come from her, your majesty! The queen is trying to kill you!” “No,” said the king. “If my wife wished to kill me she would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

Prompt courtesy of@writing-prompt-s, as foundhere

“Stop joking around when you’re dying!” I snarled at my idiot husband, now turning a delicate purple. The minister was backing away, so I leapt the table, ripping my dagger loose straight through the hole in my skirts.

He shrieked and tried to run, but courtly life had not been kind to his dexterity or his strength. It was child’s play to take him to the ground, my blade to his throat. “What did you give him? Where is the antidote?”

The minister’s eyes were wide and he was blubbering. It was an embarrassing display from a senior courtier - you’d think the man had never been in a knife fight before. “I don’t - Madame, I - what are you implying?”

“You see, it wasn’t me so that means it must have been you,” I said sweetly to the minister. “Talk or I flay you alive from the balls up.”

It was too theatrical a threat. I could see the pompous mask settle again. “Now see here-” he started.

I stabbed him. He screamed.

“Darling please,” wheezed my moron husband, who should have been sitting down and conserving his breath. “We need… answer…”

“Working on it,” I sang back, grinding my dagger against the minister’s shoulder joint. He screamed again and a spurt of blood landed on my bodice. One of the summoned guards who’d been hovering turned away, his face green. Honestly, I was going to have to fire everyone next week. “I realize these aren’t your balls. This is the warning stab to make my point that I am quite serious.” I pulled my stiletto from my hair, considered the thin blade critically. “Not the best weapon for the job, but I’ll make do. Might have to stab your balls a bit instead of flaying.”

I reached down for his pants.

“Wait!” the minister screamed. “It’s golden rest vine. Golden rest vine!”

There were gasps through the court. At least a couple were clearly fake and I cursed my inability to look in all directions at once.

“Never heard of it.” I slit the fabric open. “I hope for your balls’ sake there’s an antidote.”

“I know! I know that one!” We all turned to look at the little court doctor, hitherto best noted for their ability to fall asleep on two glasses of wine. They blushed but kept their hand up like they were in school. “Standard milkweed powder and brandy.”

“Then go get it,” I hissed and the only member of the court staff who was still going to have their job next week bobbled off at full speed. I turned back to the minister cowering at my feet. “You’re a coward and a traitor,” I declared. And incompetent, I added but only mentally as I couldn’t very well critique an enemy assassin for that quality. “Guards, take him away to stand trial at the king’s pleasure.”

Now that I’d done all their job for them, the guards rushed in a great clank of armor to drag the stupid man away. That handled, I turned back to the stupid man I’d married.

The doctor was already back, trying to feed my husband a cup with their hands shaking worse than his. “Great… great work, my love,” he wheezed.

“No. Beloved. Rest,” I said and grabbed him by the nose. His jaw flapped open and the doctor poured the draught down his gullet. I crushed his head to my breast in a tender embrace before he could spit it out.

“How dare you try to die on me?” I hissed in his ear. “I told you your death is mine when I’m done with you!”

My husband wriggled his head free to look up at me, his color already returning. “Yes, dear,” he whispered back with his stupid, inane smile entirely inappropriate to a man nearly killed by a greedy minister and incompetent staff. He touched my face gently. His fingers came away wet. “Don’t cry, love. I’ll be fine.”

“I am not crying!” I protested, but my husband forestalled further argument on the topic by turning his head and emptying the contents of his stomach across my skirts. In the ensuing clean up of yet another mess, he slipped into gentle rest before I could conclusively prove him wrong.

Another thing I’d have to get revenge for. Another reason - no, another obligation to keep the idiot alive, no matter how exhausting.

It’s a hard thing, proper revenge, but absolutely worth doing right. I’d get him. Someday.