His Little Fae

Judgement

"She was never crazy.

She just didn't let her heart settle in a cage.

She was born wild, and sometimes we need people like her.

For it's the horrors in her heart which cause the flames in ours,

And she was always willing to burn for everything she has ever loved."
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"I heard you met with Zander yesterday," Livius murmured casually, moving a pawn forward, and taking my knight as I bit my manicured nails in frustration.

"What of it?" I inquired, eying the chess board.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you meet with him?"

"Because I wanted to."

"Alexandria."

"Stop distracting me," I said, changing the subject as I attempted to decide what to do with the pawns before me.

He was winning. That was obvious. But he did it so subtly you barely even realized it. Every move of his was completely thought out. It was aggravating.

Groaning, I moved my bishop across the board, taking one of his useless pawns.

His lips pulled into a lazy yet amused smirk.

I glared at him.

"Interesting move, my love," he drawled, taking my bishop with his stupid knight.

I hated the knight.

It's movements always confused me.

I scowled, my eyes shifting between my pieces.

His queen stood directly in front of my King, so I instinctively reached forward to take her. My only thoughts were towards disposing of what I believed to be the most powerful piece, but I hesitated, my hands pausing in their movements as I eyed the board.

He watched me, body relaxed as he leaned back in his chair, head resting on his hand, amusement dancing in his pale blue eyes.

I didn't like the way he was eying me like a hawk.

It made me feel like he was completely in control of this game.

Then again, he probably is.

It was as though every movement I made was contributing to his winning. My pieces were where he wanted them to be. I couldn't move a single pawn without him willing it to be so.

That was how he played.

And that was how he won.

It wasn't fair. Although he wasn't cheating, his smooth and relaxed responses to my every movement, and the way his eyes shifted from me, to my hands, to the chess board, was enough to influence my decisions. To make me doubt.

I pouted.

"Take your time, my queen, chess is about analysis and response," he stated, grinning down at me, as I pursed my lips.

I stiffened.

Just as I was about to move my king to take his Queen, it clicked.

He was sacrificing his main piece.

Most likely knowing that anyone would go for the Queen, he simply gave her away for the bigger picture.

If I took his queen, his rook who stood across the board on the same line would simply slide forward, and he'd win.