[ WP ] A king and a thief have one last conversation during while under siege .

I was really motivated by this prompt. Got an account and everything to post this one, its nice to join the community so bear with me. 
 
 Challenge 
 A king and a thief have one last conversation while under siege. 
 
 
 King Cornell stood anxiously by the fire of his tall nebulous castle. His room was the definition of regal. It was his father's. Cornell looked at his posthumous portrait of the leader brought his kingdom peace. He always held his tongue and always made eye contact, even for a fleeting moment. 
 
 Cyrus was approaching. After the coup attempt Cyrus needed to assert his dominance. Being a former noble himself he sought to take the throne of his generous childhood friend. He thought it was necessary. Cornell now had to ensure that he had the sword of center. 
 
 The center sword clings loudly against the rocks. The thief sprints across enemy lines and down through the impressive moat between the castle. It was cold. Cyrus was in angst over the loss of the sword, the keepsake of his country. As a child he would watch it gleam in the old kings cabinet. Now he needed it to calm his country. It would show his prominence. Maybe he could claim more. 
 
 Cornell knew that Cyrus was coming. Someone was closer. Cornell looked at his contracted thief in full knowledge of time of arrival. This was one of the best thieves in the known world. This thief was promised death many times. Cornell was tense. He could be killed instantly by the contracted hooded figure. The sword was placed in his hands under the cover of purple crushed velvet. The seven families names gleamed under the hearth and reflected into his eyes. The dry blood of his father shook him to his core. 
 
 The thief did not make eye contact. He gave the king a couple minutes to fully acknowledge what he had received. He had to kill Cyrus with the blade. Cornell looked out of the window wistfully. The thief took the initiative to remove all assumption of all hostility by the fire. Darkness yielded for the king, the moonlight cast a spell on the landscape. Cornell did not trust this agent, but he did not believe the crossing of their paths came so casually. The guild sent their best, the only one that knew the king well. 
 
 The thief undressed by the fire, seeking relief from the long journey and frigidity of the moment. With a face to the fire, a green eye peeled over a shoulder took a look at the sullen desperate king. 
 
 Legs folded by the fire, upright. The daughter of the fallen noble, she carefully removed her soaked clothes by the fire. Cornell bewildered only saw the damaged skin on her back and one green eye held well in contact with him. Many years have passed since they last met. About a dozen actually. 
 
 Cornell sat by the flames and shed a tear. Her father made this sword. Cornell felt stabbed with no wounds. She kept rigid, facing the fire looking left at her childhood peer. Christie had to outgrow the shame, and had to work hard. The look on her face was as if it was carved in. 
 
 Her father was noble, she put up with Cyrus and Cornells games. Even though she was only the daughter of a Duke, she was made to be their playmate and servant. After her father died in a freak accident she was ordered to be executed. 
 
 Cornell: And destiny has brought you back here. 
 Christie:.... ( Stares ). 
 Cornell: I ’ ve cursed you one more time. And forever at that. 
 Christie: It's one heavy ass sword. 
 Cornell: The sins are etched in every letter. 
 Christie: ….Quite the room you have. 
 Cornell: I like the atrium better. We used to play hide and seek when you did n't have chores. 
 Christie: That atrium? It was frighteningly enormous. Took an hour to clean. 
 Cornell: And charles would never find me, he always would ask you know who to find me. 
 Christie: He would rub his glasses every once in awhile and just not put them on. 
 Cornell: Ha. He always says that he lost a pair. 
 Christie: I remember when cyrus decided to hide in the potting jar. Or was it a fountain? 
 Cornell: They ’ re all fountains now. It was a jar because… 
 Christie: I had to clean his stupid ass cause he had dirt all over him. 
 Cornell: Did he ever apologize? 
 Christie: He said sorry, then invited me to dinner. 
 Cornell: Did he start a war after that? 
 Christie: Nope, but i think i should have. 
 Cornell: War at 12? 
 Christie: 11 dishes for the archduke ’ s son. By his maid! The madness. 
 Cornell: You mean my maid. 
 Christie: I ’ ve made up your bed and his and i've always slept in my own. 
 Cornell: Liar, you never needed sleep. I could never get any wine out of the cellar. 
 Christie: Sleep was for mortals. And you could never find the key to that cellar now could you. 
 Cornell: Whenever that cellar was open we could say whatever we wanted. 
 Christie: That crap is poison. 
 Cornell: Poison makes for good cooking. 
 Christie: How much you have left? 
 Cornell: It ’ s all for the man walking up the steps to come and kill us. Its all thats left of my kingdom. How much poison do you have left? 
 Christie: Just Enough. 
 
 
 
 [ Erotica or death ensues. ] 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

