A Faery Tale - Finished

One Night With The Fae - Part Nine

- The Banshee -

The Banshee could barely contain her mirth. Everything was going to plan. The idiotic Queens were so easy to play off each other. After this night, the Irish fae would once again be in charge and the laws of old resurrected. Her King would rule the night as was his place. Luring a True Child of Ireland to the festivities had been genius. The King insisted that the girl leave unharmed, so the banshee allowed the solitary who was helping her to move about unpunished. She had enough to do. If he kept an eye on the girl then she could perform the rest of her duties along with her sisters. The True Child of Ireland would be needed another time. She hadn’t even needed to perform any magic on the faery, he was helping voluntarily. She would keep that information in mind when the girl was needed back.

The bodyguards were already locked in battle. She had the right to declare treason, but it was safe to wait until at least one of them was dead. Two loyal guards were harder to defeat than one.

The first blood was drawn, and she already felt the trembles of her father around the hall. Both courts had unwittingly invited Death. She could barely contain her excitement at the thoughts of the power that would be released. Everything was falling into place, thanks to the presence of the human girl. The Queens were so weak that neither of them had noticed the difference. Their blood was poor. Their own father had known it was so, as bad as he was. She wouldn’t rest until his bloodline was completely destroyed. She owed him that much. The fae deserved to be ruled by someone worthy.

Finally, the bodyguard of the Unseelie Queen was slaughtered. It had been a long time coming for the banshee. A lifetime in fact. All working up to this one perfect moment. The death of Wyla instigated a ritual that could not be stopped. The banshee’s rewards would be many. The power of the ban sidhe would be fully restored.

 Shrieking loudly of death and despair, she wailed to the great hall of the fae.

“Betrayal, betrayal. Death is walking amongst us this evening! The Queen’s favourites have instigated a war! The treaty has been broken. The solitary fae will speak tonight!”

The treaty warned against bloodshed between the two Courts during festival times. This was the most important festival of all. Brathnach and Wyla had broken the treaty, leaving the solitaries free to act. The Unseelie Queen surprised most of the hall by publicly lamenting the loss of her servant. So the rumours were true, thought the banshee, watching the Queen descend into total madness. She almost felt pity for her, but that passed along with her memories of her own losses along the way.

When they came to kill the Unseelie Queen, she welcomed it. That took some of the pleasure out of her death. The banshee had hoped she would scream for mercy, but her death was quick and probably painless. The look on her face as she died said it was a welcome release for her. But what of the Seelie Queen?

The banshee watched the living Queen in concern. Her disloyal servants had not yet made a move. For the first time, her heart burned with the fear that it might all go wrong. The night couldn’t be wasted; it was her only chance to return her leader to the world in whole form. The arrogant Seelie Queen was already declaring herself the new master of both courts. But the two small creatures did the banshee’s bidding like they promised. As one, they worked together to end her life in a most satisfactory way. The only pity being its speed. The banshee was pleased.

The Courts were no more.

A crescendo of cheers echoed across the hall. The Irish fae were all aware of the outcome of the night. Some of the other solitary fae had been waiting for the occasion too. The ritual to resurrect the old King was ready to begin. The banshee hurried to get rid of the human before her master’s spirit was reunited with a bodily form.

Brathnach, covered in Wyla’s blood, chased the solitary faery and the human through the hall. He had howled in rage when he realised his Queen was dead and immediately tried to hunt down the perpetrators of the murder, but the banshee hid them so successfully that he gave up and turned his attentions to the faery and the human instead.  So intent was he to kill that he couldn’t stop. The Banshee took the glamour off the exit to light the way for the True Child of Ireland.

Brathnach was like a rabid animal. He gained ground on the pair too quickly; the banshee didn’t have enough time to help. Her weakened power was already divided too much. Luckily, the faery stopped and pushed the human ahead of him. He tried to follow her, but Brathnach was already there, pulling him back and reaching for his sword, eager to kill.

The banshee and her sisters surrounded Brathnach, delighted for the opportunity to put down that particular dog. His love and devotion for his newly dead Queen had prevented them from living freely for a long time. He had been used as a threat far too many times for their liking. The faery fell away from Brathnach’s grip as the hands of death strangled Brathnach’s internal organs. He suffered delightfully, but the banshee decided she wasn’t finished yet.

She put her hand on the faery’s shoulder. “None can leave,” was all she said.