


The Age of Kings to the Zenith of Queens

by Hara Kyome



Category: Queen's Thief series
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2013-12-22 05:50:55
Rating: T
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,942
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5933856/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1164401/Hara-Kyome
Summary: Alphabetized drabbles of the daily lives, thoughts, and musings of our favorite thief and his associates.





	1. Acrobatics

**This is my first series of drabbles. I'm gonna try to do one a day. Hopefully my muse won't kill itself. Its gonna be from A to Z. **

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Acrobatics

Rooftop to rooftop, he jumped and ran. His feet gracefully landing on each roof without so much as a sound.

Gods, he loved this.

The exhileration of it all.

It made him feel alive.

He flipped and jumped and twirled like one of those acrobatic performers he had seen in the circus when he was child in Eddis. Feats that should have been impossible for a one armed man, let alone a _drunken _one armed man, he did with accuracy and precision.

He felt like the Thief of Eddis again with that deadly glint in his eye and cat-like grace. He had so longed for that feeling to return to him. He almost ached for that excitement to make his heart hammer in his chest once more. The thrill of almost being caught but escaping at the last moment.

He could feel the alchohol numbing his thoughts. He was glad of it. He had been thinking a little too much lately.

Too much about Irene.

Too much about being king.

He jumped another crenallation and staggered at the landing. There he went again, thinking too much. He held the wineskin firmly in his hand and took another gulp. He snickered to himself as if to a private joke.

He looked up into the night sky and wondered. He wondered why his gods had stuck him in such a place. Such a godforsaken hell called Attolia. The only reason he had even agreed to be king was to have Irene. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between his love for Irene and his fear of taking power from her.

And so he resisted being king. Resisted it with all his might.

So he had tried to play the part of the fool and it had worked. They thought of him as a goatfooted barbarian who had forced the Queen to marry him and had no right to the throne. That was just the way he liked it. Gods bedamned if they found out what he was really capable of. But this had not lasted long. No matter hard he tried to feign ignorance and stupidity, things kept occurring that forced him to reveal himself for who truly was. Such as the murdering of the assassins and the fall of the House of Erondites.

He looked down at the wineskin. Damn it all. It wasn't working. He had come up here to forget and he was thinking more than ever. He downed another drink of wine.

He ran and jumped yet another crenallation. He swung and staggered. Maybe it was a bit too much wine. He took another swig. Hell with it, he drunk already anyway.

His ears caught someone coming up onto the roof. He smiled as he heard the voice. It was Costis. His shining knight in armor here to rescue him and force him back to bed. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so boring after all.

He took another guzzle from the wineskin.

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**A/N: Review and Gen will do a backflip. **


	2. Beauty

**I haven't been able to update because of finals. It feels like I haven't written for a month, but here it is. **

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Beauty

If there was anything Attolia did not give a moment's notice to it was her beauty. She wasn't one of those pretty little dolls out there on the ballroom floor, twirling and giggling to her partner's jokes as if she were some fickle air headed fool. She was the image of an ice queen, sitting emotionless on her throne as if she were carved from stone. She never danced with anyone. She was there only there for appearances.

Beautiful, yet ruthless.

She knew she was beautiful of course, but she never fluttered her eyelashes or made useless and inane small talk. She detested all of it. The only time where she resorted to such foolish tactics was when she was deceiving Nahusaresh and even then she felt like vomiting every time she dawned the facade. Woman all over Eddis, Attolia, and Sounis would have killed for her beauty, but she would only show it off if there was something for her to gain. She would only use her beauty as a last resort. To her, beauty was only a means to an end.

Other girls would make up their hair according to the latest styles of the court and cake their faces with makeup until they were hardly distinguishable, while Attolia would simply pull it back into a tight bun held in place by tens of hairpins; concealed from sight, and put on a light layer of powder so as to look accountable. Other girls would wear outrageously frilly dress and heavy jewelry to show off their father's or husband's wealth and power. Though she wore only a simple gown, she could make it look the most elegant dress in the room. She wore only a single pair of earrings and the crown she had fashioned for herself after Hephaestus'. Other girls' type of beauty was shallow and weak minded.

When she was young, she had been just like them. She had been shallow and narrow minded, seeing nothing beyond the walls of the palace. That is, until her brothers and father had died and her fiance had taken over the throne. She had been so helpless, so pathetic. She didn't want be vulnerable anymore. She wanted to have control.

So she had decided to poison his wine.

After that, her beauty had changed considerably. She became beautifully ruthless and merciless. No longer a meek and obedient little mouse. She had power now. Hundreds respected and feared her. She swore she would never be weak again.

She built a wall of stone around her, allowing no one to get close enough to peer into her thoughts. Her face was a mask that she had grown so accustomed to that she began to forget what it was like to smile. Her beauty had turned frigid and cold.

Then she had met Eugenides and all her walls and masks of stone crumbled in his hand. Her beauty, something that she had never payed attention to, had begun to take her notice. She felt self conscious in front of him. As if he could see through to her very soul.

She decided she wanted him. She offered him a place in her court as her thief.

He had graciously refused; saying that although she was more beautiful, Eddis was more kind.

This truth stung her. For she knew that though she was very beautiful, you could never call the Queen of Attolia kind. She had been momentarily stunned, but she regained her composure and gave him a cold, bitter smile that he returned with a mischievous one of his own. She hadn't realized the butterflies in her stomach weren't that of anger, but of love.

This had been their first meeting.

Months passed and she found the thief once again in her presence; caught sneaking around her palace. She decided not to be so lenient this time and decides to punish the thief with the loss of his hand. She feels twinge of guilt as she hears him beg and scream and cry, but she tears that guilt into pieces. With a chop and a sever, his hand was gone. She felt the twinge of guilt return.

Again she met him as he kidnapped her. As they traveled down river, he confessed his love her. She couldn't believe her ears. Him love her? It was ridiculous, almost laughable. He is but a child compared to her. she is deadly beautiful and he is a jester in Eddis' court. But as she sees the sincerity on his face, she has doubts, though she does not let him see it. Her stone beauty cracks a little.

After Eddis and Attolia have defeated Nahusaresh and momentarily fought off the Mede, she was faced with the decision of marrying the thief. She looked at Eddis and wondered why she couldn't have been like her. Though she is not beautiful, her heart is not filled with ice like Attolia's. Attolia understood why Gen chose kindess over beauty. In the end, out of duty to her country, she agreed to wed him.

Things between them were cold. Though Eugenides had confessed his love to her and she had agreed to marry, It did not mean that she loved him. She was determined to prove this point to him. She only to spoke with him when necessary and never showed the slightest bit of emotion. Though she tried so hard to distance herself from him, her mask cracked every time she saw him.

Slowly her mask crumbles bit by bit and her heart pounded until she cannot take it anymore. She asked him if he truly loved her. He replied that he did and she saw no deceit or lies in his piercing gaze.

"I love you too." And she accepts his love and her mask disintegrates like sand into the ocean. In that moment her stone beauty melted and something warm began to grow in its place. Before she knew it, it was love.

Years later, she sits coldly upon her thrown. No expression whatsoever upon her face.

Now as she gazes over her court with a hawk like precision, taking in every single detail of scenery, she notices a pair of eye watching with a slight smile on his lips and his wooden hand smugly at his hip. He holds his one good hand out to her inviting her to dance. She looks at him neutrally and takes his hand. They twirl and twirl to the soft music. As she looks into his deep dark eyes, she blushes a little. He gives her a mischievous smile.

It is only in the presence of this goat footed thief does she feel conscious of her beauty.

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**A/N: R&R Please!**


	3. Crowns

**C is for Crowns! I'm trying to do a drabble every day now that summer's here. Enjoy!**

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Crowns

The definition of the word crown is the power or dominion of a sovereign. It is the symbol of a monarch's power and authority, but it can mean more than just power. To the four monarchs of Attolia, Sounis, and Eddis, it meant something different entirely.

To Eugenides, it meant torment. But it was a punishment he gladly accepted to achieve what he really desired. Though the many people of Attolia thought he was just a goat footed thief after the throne, he was after the woman wearing it. For his love for her and his fear of temptation, he refused to use the power of the throne. Because of it, he had been torn from his home and was forced to live a hellhole where everyone was out to eat him alive. The crown was the thorn in his side and he winced every time it dug into his skin.

To Irene, it meant strength. After she had poisoned her traitorous fiance's wine, she had sworn to herself that she would never be weak again. She had built a ruthless reputation and stood indifferently as she hung the skins of her enemies on the castle walls. She was no longer helpless now that she had the throne at her back. To her, it was a tool to be twisted and turned to her advantage. She had learned as much from Relius, her trusted spymaster. She never gave her trust easily and always cut down the traitorous weeds in her court. The crown was her weapon and she wielded it well.

To Helen, it meant judgement. After her brothers had died, her father had told her in his last few moments of life that she would have to make hard choices during her reign. Only after she had made the decision of going to war with Sounis and Attolia and witnessed her relatives' corpses dropping on the battlefield, did she realize what he truly meant. Her choices, good or bad, shaped the destiny of her kingdom. Though she had foreseen the volcano's lava consuming her country, she knew she could still control its destiny in the present. The crown was built on her every thought and action.

To Sophos, it meant responsibility. He was no longer the soft philosopher that read under pear trees oblivious to the sufferings in his kingdom. Living among his people had made him realize the affect his disappearance had on them. He learned of the torment of a slave and the labor of a servant. He learned that to be a king, he had to do more than cower behind his soldiers. Eugenides had given him the tool to do just that. So he had shot the Mede ambassador with it. He was stronger now and he would no longer quiver with fear as the enemy drew near. The crown was his charge and he took it with pride.

To each of them it was a blessing and a curse, but each of them took it regardless of the consequences.

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**Hope you read and review. Its short, but its supposed to be. Its a _drabble_.**


	4. Dancing

**This one's a bit long for a oneshot, but I've seen longer. Hope you enjoy _Dancing_! Reading and reviewing will earn you a cookie. =D**

_**Man, this is old. But I always liked this chapter, so I thought I'd actually take the time to edit a few things that really bugged me. Hopefully, it flows a lot better than before. :D**_

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Dancing

Deep in her chambers, draped with silks of emerald green and cotton sheets, the Queen of Attolia lay peacefully in slumber, momentarily forgetting the existence of the outside world. The room was silent; the only sound the gentle labored breaths of her Highness sighing in and out. Her face, normally blank of any emotion, was relaxed and content. A rare smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and her eyes gently shut. Her dark hair, loose from its usual bonds of pins and clips, tumbled out across the pillows. If a guard came in to check on her, he would have been stunned to see his queen so unguarded and feminine.

Unfortunately, this tender moment was interrupted by a soft whistling coming from her open window. It broke the fragile silence and gently woke the dreaming Queen. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound and she leaned up against the pillows, confused and wary. At first, she dismissed it as nothing but the wind blowing through the trees, but then the rhythm of tapping feet joined in and it got louder. She groaned and rose out of bed. The wind made her nightgown flap wildly about her. She boldly stepped toward her bedroom door. Her servants, whose beds resided just outside her chambers, were woken by the creaking of her midnight entrance and made tired sighs as they reluctantly followed her into the passageway. Though they complained and moaned of exhaustion, too tired to care that they were in the Queen's presence, they still took the tentative steps up the stone stair case that led to the roof of the Queen's apartments.

Normally she would have let her guards handle such an insignificant problem, but curiosity overwhelmed her and she found herself, dressed in only a nightgown and emerald slippers, climbing the roof of her apartments into the moonlit night air. As she reached the final step, she found an odd occurrence that made her and her entourage stop and stare at the scene in front of them.

The King of Attolia was dancing, but that wasn't the strangest part. There was someone dancing with him. She was a tall, thin woman with clear gray eyes and long, black hair in a white dress. Stranger still, Attolia could see straight through her body. It was if she was a ghost. The thought gave the Queen chills.

Eugenides didn't seem to notice anything off at all, as his eyes were closed. The ex-thief was dressed in his best robes. His usual Mede coat with its bell shaped sleeves covered his hooked hand from sight. He and the woman smiled like they were having the time of their lives.

It was a graceful dance filled with lots of stepping and twirling. Though his hand clasped onto the invisible hand of the woman, he danced beautifully. She was as equally elegant in her translucent steps. They matched each other foot for foot and hand for hand, mimicry at its finest. Attolia and her attendants could only gape at them in awe.

Then Irene heard it.

It was a slow, soft tune that made her eyes lazy and her head heavy. It was the sound that had guided her all the way up her.

And it was coming from the woman and Eugenides. She found herself humming along despite her shock. The king and the ghost circled and glided to its melody, entrancing Irene with their fluidity.

Loathe as she was to break the spell of the moment, the mystery was making her heart beat out of her chest, but just as she was about to call out to him, the dance ended and the whistling ceased. The ghost, facing Irene, waved and gave a sly wink before disappearing into invisible dust.

Gen turned round and opened his eyes. He stared at Irene in surprise.

"Out for a stroll, my queen?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

She left her attendants and took a few tentative steps onto the roof toward him.

"Who was that?"

"Who?" He gestured in confusion to empty air. "Who was what?"

"You were dancing with..."She wasn't sure how to tell him he had been dancing with a ghost.

"Myself?" He grinned." Yes, I suppose it is a bit strange."

"Then why are you dancing out here?"

"To celebrate a special occasion."

Just as she was about to ask what was so special, he changed the subject. "Now _I_ have a question for _you. _What is her Highness doing up on the roof of all places in the middle of the night?"

"Your whistling is what woke me. I could hear it all the way from my bedchambers."

His expression grew wistful. "It's a tune my mother taught me."

She didn't answer. Was that who that woman was?

He continued on." We invented that little dance together. She used to whistle the tune to accompany the steps."

Irene didn't have a hard time imagining Eugenides as a child. Though his body had grown older, his mind would always be that of a child.

"It's the anniversary of her death isn't it?"

Gen nodded with a sad smile." She fell off the roof of the Eddisian palace while dancing when I was just a boy. She died doing what she loved."

Irene knew what it was like to lose family members. Her brother and father came into her mind's eye.

Eugenides noticed her grim expression and stepped forward to take her waist with her left hand. She put her right hand where his hook now was, careful to grab the sleeve instead of the hook. They danced and twirled, stepping in and out of each other's arms. Irene in only her nightgown and Gen in his long Mede coat.

As they turned round and round, Gen spoke again. "It was never the same after she left. My father and I fought before her death, but afterwards we argued constantly."

She stretched her hand out and grasped his sleeve with the other.

"Did you know he wanted me to be a soldier?" Irene snorted. He gave her a thin smile. "Hard to believe, I know. Don't worry. I couldn't stand the bloodshed, so I became the Thief of Eddis instead."

He gathered her back into his arms and she dipped low, supported by his only hand. Their faces were so close; she could feel his breath on her neck.

His eyes twinkled. "He was none too pleased about that."

She laughed." And how did he react to his son becoming a king?"

He pulled her back up and once again placed his hand at her silken waist.

He shrugged. "Oh, you know. A grunt here and a growl there. You should be honored though, my lady, he does seem to respect you if nothing else."

"You must be mistaken. What kind of person would respect a cold, emotionless statue?"

Eugenides just smiled secretively. "My father isn't the type who would respect someone without a heart." He leaned in close to her and placed a hand over her beating chest. "Which you are not at all lacking."

She glared down at the floor and he chuckled.

"What was she like?" She asked, desperate to get away from the subject of herself. "Your mother I mean."

"She was beautiful, kind, and clever." He started to step into the dance again. She followed. "They called her the Queen Thief."

"She was the Thief of Eddis?"

He shook his head. "No, that was my grandfather. She merely liked to pocket the items people were the most proud of. She would either hang them round her own neck or give them to the gods. So if you bragged around your golden necklace, Eugenides' altar would probably have it by the next day. People knew not to insult her."

"Sounds like someone I know."

"She was also known as a thief of hearts." He flashed her a dazzling smile. "Now you know where I get my charm and good looks from." She rolled her eyes.

Her voice dropped below a whisper. "Do you miss her?"

He went silent for a few moments, ending the dance. His eyes were thoughtful as he spoke.

"Always." He kissed her tenderly. "But now I have you."

When he leaned back, his cheeks were slightly flushed and he even grinned sheepishly at her. He kissed her hands, flashed a sly grin, and walked back down the stone steps into the palace, before she could say another word.

She was left gaping at the spot he had been standing, her face like a tomato. With a small smile on her face, she followed her husband back inside with one last glance at the empty rooftop.

She shook her head. "I must have been seeing things."

Moments after they left, a woman, clad all in white with clear, gray eyes and long, black hair, stood with Eugenides, god of thieves. She gazed down the stone steps in silence.

_Are you ready to go? Once a year, that's all I can give you. _

The woman sighed. _I know. _She smiled. _He has grown up so fast. _

_He has grown into a good man. _

The woman nodded._ Mischievous like me but stubborn like his father._

Eugenides smiled. _The night mustn't end so quickly. I can grant you a couple more hours. _

She turned to look at him with a knowing glint in her eyes.

_Your sister will scold you for letting me going over my limit._

_So she will. _He held out his hand. _Would you care to dance, Queen Thief?_

She laughed and took his hand. And so, mortal and god danced into the night while whistling a slow, sweet tune to the sky.


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