Obey Your Master

[Cory O'Malley]

Prompt List

• Mischief
• King
• Sleep
• Obey
• Blood
• Dark
• Edge
• Thunder
• Cold
• Iron

[Cory O'Malley]

I R O N

Emma was just finishing up in her study when she looked up to see her son standing in the doorway, hand bleeding. She jumped, which was unfortunate, because it meant he'd caught her off guard - not a common occurrence of the Queen. "Cormac? What happened to your hand?" she asked, immediately abandoning the papers at her desk to go to him. She was unable to, however, as he came into the room with a build of power behind him that caused her to hesitate.

"Do you know who I've just had a lovely conversation with?" he asked, his voice accusatory. "Your little shadowy boy-toy."

Emma raised a brow. "Did you?" she asked, cautious. It took her aback, how like his father he looked - and even sounded - when he was angry. She was able to balance herself, staying calm. Her particular breed of Fae originated from the UnderFae, and if need be, her son would learn the hard way why she was Queen. If.

"Yes," he hissed. "And do you know what he's told me? That I have my father's temper. I thought that was strange, given that nobody seems to know who my father is, and every time the subject came up in my youth, you suddenly had somewhere else to be. But I could forgive all of that, if only you hadn't hidden it in plain sight, mother."

Fucking Taranis, Emma thought to herself. Aloud, she said, "Now, Cormac, I don't know what you think you know, but I assure you, whatever Taranis said - "  She was unable to finish her words before Cory raised a hand and shut her mouth with a wave.

"I'm not interested in your half-truths, mother. I'm a fucking Fae, I know how we can get around lying!" he shouted. "I only have one question, and I want you to be honest," he added, a little laugh in his breath as he said it. "Who is my father?"

As soon as he released the hold on her, she shook her head firmly. "I can't tell you that."

"But you will," he snapped. He swept his hand over, forcing Emma to grab an iron poker from the fireplace, and gestured for her to lay her other hand flat on the desk. He fashioned it as a spear in her hand, the point angled down at her open palm.

"Cormac, please, I CAN'T tell you that!" she shouted/begged, struggling against him. Fucking Mesmers! She cursed the day she'd ever laid eyes on Alistair, how had Cormac gotten his power over her own? "Cor-AUGH!" Her pleading was broken off as the iron poker buried itself into her hand, pinning it to the desk. She instantly keeled forward, unable to pull the rod back out without the Mesmer letting her.

"Just tell me! Is it the Seelie King? Is it that fucking pompous ass? The green eyes, blonde hair - it couldn't be so OBVIOUS, could it? But who else in this entire Fae Kingdom is like ME? WHO, mother?" he screamed. Barely out of his teen years, Cormac packed a powerful punch with his magic, and it was obvious that his lineage was no less than royal. But his emotions hadn't any comparison to the long, long tenure both of his parents shared in learning to control themselves, and he was instead being controlled.

Cory was about to go in for another round when he suddenly stiffened, then fell forward onto his knees. Behind him, Irina yanked back her hands, fingers of which were still formed into razor-sharp icicles, now coated in Cormac's blood. "She can't tell you, you little shit, because she signed the Book of Blood." Irina rolled her eyes, angered both by his actions and his youthful ignorance.

"I will rip your skin from your body for that, you frosty bitch," Cory spat, teeth chattering despite his best efforts.

"You won't, your highness," Irina informed him, reaching out with an iced-over hand to rip the poker off the desk and free her Queen. "But you'll be very lucky if your mother doesn't."

The room began to darken as Emma, clutching her bloodied and burned hand to her chest, regarded her son with a mixture of anger and horror. "Get out of my sight while you still have two legs to carry you," she warned him. The room began to darken as a swell of ash and shadow began to cloud the air.

"I'd go, highness," Irina advised him. "I hear the Seelie Palace is lovely this time of year!" she called after him, flashing a row of gleaming, sharp teeth as he glanced over his shoulder at her. She shut the door and turned back to her Queen, who was still in the shock process of whether or not to defend herself, and had shrouded in shadow.

"My Queen, he has fled," Irina told her gently. "You can cease your phase. He is no more a threat."

Emma shook her head violently, red hair a flurry as the shadow and smoke dissipated. "I have to warn Alistair. I had no idea he was so powerful already. Irina, he could have - "

"I suggest, my Queen," Irina said, offering her services to ice Emma's wound over until they could summon the healer, "that it is time to remind him that he took the lesser of the abilities."