What if the Lich King of Ages.... is little more than a cursed child? A child whose own father, out of jealousy, greed, avarice, or just plain cruelty, cursed them? What if, all they really need, is to know kindness for once in their life?
@internutter/challenge-03336-i048-youve-been-mothered -- Anon Guest
Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, they had fought their way to the innermost sanctum of the Lich King of Ages. Though 'fought' was an expansive word for solving the problems of everyone the Lich King put in their way. Most of the time with colourful yarnwork.
Most of Abundance's contributions to what passed for the fray were growing plants specifically for turning into fibrous objects. That was when Kevin's magical Bow of Necessity didn't provide.
It had, just recently, provided a secure fortress in which everyone could restore their faculties, powers, and nerves. A salvation point before the big, bad boss battled the hero foretold.
Ma, that selfsame hero, was idly making crocheted squares. It was more like a nervous tic at this point. Things were too quiet, therefore Ma made squares. "What do we know about this Lich King, then?"
Wraithvine had reached the end of the prophecies. "It's purposely vague, I swear. A great evil done in days of yore. I couldn't stop it because I didn't know. Despite what everybody thinks about me, I can't be everywhere. When you make a vow on a god's heart, they don't let you be deified until everything's fulfilled. I'm just one being doing the best with what's in front of me." Ze sighed. "Sometimes I wonder about the people who worship me. Is there a doppelganger deity who gets all the prayers? I've never actually met a Cleric of Wraithvine. What would that be like?"
"Focus," reminded Ma. "Lich King. Information. What have we got?"
Abundance nearly burst something keeping a straight face. It was one thing to hear stories about a great and immortal Wizard of legend. It was another thing entirely to learn that ze had a distractability quotient akin to a kitten faced with two dozen mice.
Wraithvine checked the scroll again. Just in case. "Great evil in times of yore, allowed to go sour... bababababa... something something, defeated by the hero foretold. Bip bip bip, cloth of rainbows. Help us, Magnolia Oxbrydl, you are our only hope."
Venin, always the nervous sort, said, "Are we going to die?"
"We could, maybe," allowed Wraithvine. "It was our job to get Ma this far. After that, we're all superfluous."
"Like hells," growled Ma. "Anyone tries to hurt you, I'm standing in their way."
"That's nice of you to put your fate in the way of ours," allowed Wraithvine. "But there is a limit to Lot Armour."
"I won't let anything bad happen to my children," said Ma Oxbrydl. "Not while I breathe. We do what we can with what we got, prepare for the worst, and expect the best. It's always done for me in all my life. It'll do for all of us henceforth."
Of all the inspiring speeches that could have been said, this was the one with the least burdens put upon them all. In that, it was a relief. In the relief, they found courage put in their hearts.
So when they breached the inner sanctum, halfway expecting a battle to the death, they were shocked to find that the Lich King was...
A four-year-old child. He had been four years old for millennia, performing great destruction with tantrums capable of shaking the earth rather than shaking a table. Howling and crying, setting his nightmares loose on anyone within a magnificent radius. A four-year-old with the power to force their fears and frets on any other mind.
One whose toys had direct links to their minions in the labyrinth and beyond.
One who had refused to take a nap for three thousand years.
Who faced them all with ash-grey skin and blood-red sclera and said, "This is my playroom! You're not allowed in!"
The force of his will drew almost all of them a step back. Some took two. Only Ma was capable of stepping forward. "No more of that talk, Mister. If nobody comes in, how're you meant to get warm milk or sweet cakes?"
It was almost terrifying to watch. How Ma, who adopted everyone just took over the role of nurse for a small child who hadn't seen a parental figure in eons. The lure of sweet cakes had its appeal, and more than enough appeal to have Ma feeding the little fellow a good meal first.
One sweet cake for good boys who finish their vegetables.
Kevin was happy to supply whatever Ma ordered, including a thread to sew up all her nervous squares into a multicoloured blanket of infinite comforts. By the time she was done, the child Lich King was on her lap and drinking up his milk.
"You tell me a story and I'll tell you another," said Ma, rocking the evidence of great evil in her arms.
"Father didn't like it when I was born. He said I killed my mother. He said I'd pay for it, and I'd never inherit his crown. He said I had to stay and play until he came back. And he never came back."
"He was a mean old man," said Ma. "Blaming a baby for a bad end. Shame on him."
"Shame," echoed the boy.
Ma started to tell a story, rocking the former Lich King to sleep. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was made to be a mother..."
It was enough to lull even the undead to sleep and sweet dreams. Even Wraithvine curled up with the others in the middle of the Lich King's lair.
When they awoke, Ma was cradling a far more ordinary child, still sound asleep. "It said 'defeat'," she cooed, "it never said kill. That old god gave me one wish. So I wished he could have a proper childhood and a better life."
Kevin stowed his magical bow. "Well then. Best be getting my baby brother up into some sunshine, eh, Ma?"
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / kavring]
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