I had been planning on adding these into "A Simple Touch," but Chapter 36 ended on such a satisfyingly final note, and I didn't want to disrupt that. But I still like 'em, so I thought I'd upload them anyway.
The first chapter takes place during Chapter 17 in "A Simple Touch," and the second chapter is a movie scene re-write (some of the original dialogue has been tweaked to fit my story).
(If you haven't read "A Simple Touch" this probably won't make much sense, as a lot of the backstory is mine. So be aware)
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Eric never found joy in speaking with Masucher. He thought the man unpleasant, rude, and altogether a highly disagreeable person to be around. He was well aware that the feeling was a mutual one, as Maushcer had done little to conceal his own dislike of Eric. Though they had been polite enough in front of Eric's father, they mostly avoided each other through the years of Mauscher's service to King Nikolaus. Now, with the king dead, Mauscher no longer bothered with false pleasantries. His few words to Eric lacked any sense of empathy for the grieving prince, prompting Eric to go to further efforts to avoid the new viceroy.
When Mauscher had sent for Eric a month after the king's death, Eric had been sorely tempted to have Elizabeth accompany him, regardless of Mauscher's insistence for him to come alone. Partly because of a small (and slightly petty) desire to spite Mauscher. But also because he felt as though her being with him might ease the strange apprehension that had settled over him upon hearing of the viceroy's desire to speak with him.
Rodolph accompanied Eric to the throne room. Upon entering the expansive hall, Rodolph stepped off to the side, leaving Eric to approach the dais the throne was on. Eric clenched his jaw at seeing Mauscher seated on his father's throne, but he said nothing, allowing Mauscher to speak first.
Maushcer smiled. It was not a warm expression. There was a condensing cruelness to it, along with a strange eagerness. "How wonderful to see you out of your chambers, Your Highness," said Mauscher, his deep voice vibrating with a mocking smugness. "I was beginning to worry that you had wasted away, as it's been some time since you've bothered to grace the court with your presence." He gestured to the court surrounding him and Eric.
Eric spared the surrounding courtiers an uninterested glance. Many of them, dressed in pompous and overly extravagant outfits, watched him with interest, eager to catch a glimpse of the prince who had hidden himself away for the past month. Others looked bored, and a few of the older ladies were eyeing Eric's mourning clothes – which were rumpled and far too plain to wear at court – with vague disapproval.
Mauscher tapped the royal scepter against the palm of his hand, regaining Eric's attention. Eric frowned, fury boiling with him at seeing his family's heirloom in the hands of the man he so despised. Only adding to the insult was the infuriating manner in which Maushcer so openly used the magical object. Eric's father had rarely brought the scepter out into the public eye; when he did, he had handled it with extreme respect.
"I'm assuming my father had explained to you of the importance of bringing the scepter out only when there is a true need for it," said Eric coldly. "Is it forgetful stupidity that prompted you to ignore his wishes, or merely some revolting desire to disrespect his memory?"
Mauscher chuckled. "You always were such a rude little brat," he snapped. He stood, his tall figure flooding the dais with his presence as he glared down at Eric. "Your father entrusted the throne to me before he had died. Do you know why?"
Eric did not respond.
"He did so because he knew that you were unworthy of such an honor. He knew what a useless, pathetic excuse for a prince you are, and realized that giving you the crown would bring disaster to Parthenia."
The words stung, but Eric kept a stoic expression, not wanting to give Mauscher the satisfaction of knowing that such a taunt affected him.
A smirk lined Mauscher's thin lips. "I was instructed to pass the throne to you once the council had deemed you worthy of its responsibilities." He gestured to a row of men sitting off to the side of the dais.
Eric's gaze drifted briefly to the council. Many of them had served beneath his father for years, and as such, were familiar faces to Eric. The councilman seated closest to Eric was one he had spoken with a bit more often than the others – Johan Vogt. For a brief moment, their gazes met, though there was no solace or friendly acknowledgment in Vogt's eyes (not that Eric had expected any). A grim resolution encompassed Vogt's expression, and he turned his attention back to Mauscher.
"The council and I have spent many hours debating what to do with you since your father's passing," continued Mauscher.
"Forgive me for being such a burden to all of you," said Eric, a mixture of vexation and sarcasm mingling in his voice. "I did not mean to hinder the council with such frivolous worries."
Some of the councilmen frowned at that, and a flicker of annoyance passed over Mauscher's face. "You need not fret any longer, Your Highness," said Mauscher coolly. "For I have, most fortunately, come to a solution that should satisfy the interests of all parties in this matter." He lifted the scepter and pointed it at Eric.
Alarm shot through Eric, and he stumbled back a step. Around him, various courtiers gasped and murmured frantically to each other. Some looked frightened, though it seemed to be for their own safety, rather than Eric's. Others seemed to be unabashedly excited at this sudden turn of events, as though they had been yearning for some entertainment to dilute their boredom.
Rodolph immediately started towards Eric, fear flickering through the fierce protectiveness on his face. But at that moment, soldiers wearing armor Eric did not recognize burst through the throne room's entrance doors. Rodolph spun about, drawing his sword.
A few of the courtiers cried out, and the crowd became restless with anxiety as more of the soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms poured through the throne room's side doors. Eric snapped his head towards the intruders, gritting his teeth as realization struck him. He looked back at Mauscher, fury in his eyes.
Mauscher smiled. "It is clear that you are not fit to rule Parthenia," said he, his voice rising to thunder above the court. "For the good of this kingdom, I hereby declare your claim to the throne void. I shall rule in your father's stead, and Pathenia will prosper as it was meant to." He lifted the scepter higher, muttering an incantation that was drowned out by the noise of the courtiers and the soldiers' rattling armor.
The scepter began to glow. Eric immediately threw himself out of its path, narrowly avoiding the shot of magic. Instead, it struck a duke sitting off to the side of the room.
The duke cried out, tumbling from his chair from the impact of the magic. He fell between the rows of seated courtiers, obscuring him from Eric's view as he morphed beneath the magic of the enchantment meant for the prince. The courtiers who had been seated next to him screamed, jumping up and stumbling back as they stared down at whatever form the duke was in now.
Chaos quickly erupted. Courtiers crying out in terror scrambled frantically over each other in desperation to reach the throne room's doors. Mauscher's soldiers were immediately caught up in the bedlam, along with Rodolph, all of whom were trying to get to Eric.
Eric shoved his way through the courtiers, trying to advance towards the dais. In the distracting mayhem, he might just have a chance at catching Mauscher off guard and grabbing the scepter. Eric ducked around a duchess, careful to keep himself hidden as he weaved his way towards Mauscher.
"Bring him to me!" Mauscher roared, scanning the crowd for the prince. "Bring him!"
Having moved onto the dais, Vogt said something to Mauscher, drawing his attention. Vogt pointed at Eric, who had been winding his way around a nearby pillar. A hungry triumph lit in Mauscher's eyes, and he arched the scepter in Eric's direction. "There!"
Eric snapped his head up. He ground out a curse and tried to dive back behind the pillar, but a solider lunged forward, grabbing his arm. Eric yanked against the man's grip, then swung his fist around. His punch would have landed squarely on the man's jaw, but just before it could connect, his wrist was caught by another solider. The second soldier yanked Eric's arm away from the first man, giving it a violent twist in warning. With both arms tightly secured, the prince was dragged towards the dais.
By now, most of the courtiers had escaped the throne room. The din died down, making the clinking armor of Mauscher's men gratingly loud in the ensuing silence. Eric struggled fiercely against his captors, but all his efforts rewarded him was a blow to the back of his head from one of the soldiers. Momentarily dazed, Eric felt a third pair of hands on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees before the dais.
"You've always been so difficult," commented Mauscher. His expression darkened into a sneer. "How glad I am to finally deal with you properly."
"How long do you think you'll be able to hold onto a throne seized through spilt blood?" snarled Eric. "How much loyalty does such a man truly gain?"
"I'm not going to kill you," said Mauscher. "Though that is a tempting idea." He shook his head. "I'm going to keep you right here, where I'll be able to keep an eye on you. When I get bored of your humiliation and self-loathing, perhaps I'll kill you then. But –" He raised the scepter, aiming it at Eric. "I'd rather experiment with you first."
An undeniable spark of terror rose up within Eric. He gave his arms another futile wrench. "Do you honestly think that's a wise idea?" he snapped. "Using the scepter on me? It belongs to my bloodline; do you not think there won't be consequences?"
"That is an impressive amount of arrogance to come from someone in your current position," said Mauscher. He adjusted the scepter, pointing it first at Eric's head, then his chest, trying to decide where best to strike him. "For the power the scepter possesses?" He scoffed. "Any risk is worth it." Mauscher finally settled for aiming the scepter at Eric's chest. "You chose to waste your time as prince with childish antics and frivolous pleasures. Why don't we give you a body to match such a puerile lifestyle?" The hatred in his voice was palpable, giving the incantation he spoke next a terrifying layer of finality.
"Seize his joints and hollow his bones,
Give him a prison of wood to be his throne;
Strip away all that had been,
Bestow upon him a fate worthy of his foolhardy sins."
Reddish bronze magic burst from the scepter, slamming into Eric.
Then there was just blinding pain.