A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

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"Goodness?" Ingolsol howled with laughter. "It's not goodness that made Beam who he is. You know nothing, woman. Do you think when he awoke, covered in his own blackened blood, with a toothless slaver hanging over him that goodness kept him going?"

"Do you think that when he felt his will escaping him, when his childhood shattered, and he felt the presence of something foreign in him – when he was walled by the confusion of those cursed by the Gods, do you think it was by being good that he managed to keep me at bay?"

The very notion seemed to reduce Ingolsol to tears of hilarity.

Claudia could say nothing, as she caught the claws that came searching for her. They chunked into the wood of her green arm, sending up a shower of splinters.

"He is not a good man," Ingolsol said firmly. "No, he is not. The evil in him runs deep. Far too deep. That is the only reason that he was able to contain me – because he was worse than me."

"You lie," Claudia hissed. "You defame him whilst he's at his weakest."

"Weakest?" Ingolsol laughed. "That is you, woman. He's always been strong. He's always been mad. It is you that fears evil. It is he that was able to note it.

The boy has both. The ocean trench of his soul runs all the way to hell. The peak of his tallest mountain runs all the way to the heavens. He is that which you beings of 'goodness' admire and praise. He is that which we demons worship."

"Out of respect for him, I will claim his heart, before these others do. Even we monsters have honour," Ingolsol said.

This time, when his attack reached for her, Claudia's arm could not summon the strength to block it. Her limb was there in time, it was true, but there was no will behind her defence. Ingolsol smiled a fox's smile, as his claws shattered the wood of her arm, and cleaved past her, towards the undefended chest of Beam, as he sat on his knees, his head bowed and defenceless.

His claws tore through Beam's shirt, and his hand plunged straight in his chest, toward his heart.

Blood poured from Beam's mouth, as he raised his head. Somehow, there was fire in his eyes. He met Ingolsol's gaze with a grim smile.

"You're a fucking bastard, Ingolsol," he said, through bloody teeth. "I should have shattered you the moment I got a chance."

Ingolsol grinned. A side of Beam that only he was privy to. It had been a long time since he had seen it. Only rarely, in Beam's worst moments, did the two make conversation. Ironically, the field of battle, bloodied as Beam had been against the Hobgoblin, and against the Yarmdon soldiers – those were not his worst moments, even as close to death as he was.

His worst moments were in the quiet, by his lonesome, with no hope, no chances. Those were when he was forced to reach down into the depths of what he was, and make conversation with the darkest parts of himself.

"I win, in the end, as we knew I would," Ingolsol said, as he wrapped his claws around Beam's heart, and felt his pulse.

"You win nothing but a falling pile of sand. What a ridiculous bastard you are," Beam said. "Thank the Gods that I don't understand you… Actually, piss on that. Change the language for me, would you, so I don't have to use your names when I curse."

"That can be arranged," Ingolsol said.

Claudia watched with wide eyes. There was a tenderness to the interaction that she hadn't expected. Ingolsol, the embodiment of evil and despair… she could swear there was a touch of warmth in his eyes, a touch of regret. She almost felt left out not being a part of it.

Beam's eyes found her. "Heh… You've a terrible look on your face, woman. Is the real you this righteous? It's damn annoying to deal with at times."

She recoiled her face in shock.

"Damn it, you should be vying for my throne too," Beam said, as he coughed up bloody spittle. "Is it because she's a woman?" He asked Ingolsol. "She doesn't seem to understand what we're getting at."

"She fears your death," Ingolsol said.

"Do you?" Beam said, asking Ingolsol, instead of Claudia.

"I have longed for it since the moment we met. I am a relentless tiger – it is in my blood to finally lay claws on my prey."

Beam's hand grasped Ingolsol's forearm, and he squeezed, as he ground his teeth together, an intense look in his eyes. "Do not use that word so lightly, Sol. You know what it means to me."

"Ah, yes, I suppose I do," Ingolsol said.

"Tiger?" Claudia found herself asking, dumbfounded, even as he lay there, covered in his own blood, she could not help asking that question. Even as she asked it, she found herself feeling embarrassed, as though she were some air-headed barmaid, that couldn't keep up with the most basic of conversation.

The two men laughed at that. It was as though they were friends. It was the strangest scene. His hand was plunged straight through Beam's chest… But it wasn't the scene of a murder. The two had an intense look in their eyes, but there was something there that Claudia could not understand. It was a conversation that her short time with them did not allow her access to.

"Obviously, tiger, you dullard," Ingolsol said, grinning. "Ah, how I wish that it was you that had to die, rather than he."

Beam grew serious for a moment. "We would have not made it so far without her. Though you're irritating at times – damn it, the both of you are – in the end, I suppose I have to thank you."

"Thank me?" Claudia asked confused. "Thank him? But we're intruders in your body – we've made you suffer so much."

"You've given me strength," Beam said firmly. His eyes glowing, and dangerous. They were not the eyes of a man about to breathe his last. They were terrifying things. Eyes that even made a fragment of a Goddess like her flinch. "Both of you have."