It had been three weeks since Saironelloistya had announced the deaths, and the darkness had not yet subsided. Some of the citizens theorized that it was a curse, laid by Aranellevanima in rage at her daughter's death, and paid for with her own life. Others thought that it was simply a natural disaster and that it would soon pass, while on the other side of the spectrum, some thought it was the End of The World.

It was Orónëminya, who eventually divined the source, through a week of straight meditation and prayer. She walked over to her father, who sat on the throne, his face in his hands, and ventured, "Mom was loved by nature, was she not?"

Saironellotoron II sat up and forced a smile for his 1,234-year-old daughter, who due to the slow ageing of elves, appeared to be no older than a 13-year-old girl. "Yes, Orónëminya, and nature loved her back. Why do you ask?"

Orónëminya looked at Percival, who was standing to her left. The two siblings were very close, and you rarely found the two siblings apart from one another. Percival would have tea parties with her, and she would go sword fighting with him. This glance toward Percival gave her the resolve she needed to continue, and she turned back toward her father and explained "I think, after much meditation and forethought, that nature itself may be in outrage at her death. The forces of Nature are not to be reckoned with, as they have full access to the Weave."

Saironellotoron II considered what she was saying, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You may be correct, Orónëminya, but what shall we do, if that is the case? We lack the strength to assail Nature itself."

Orónëminya thought for a moment, and stated, "I do not know, Father. Druidism is not my expertise. That is more of Faramaureä's field of knowledge. However, Faramaureä knew nothing about how to correct this, but she did offer to ask the Elorean Elders if they had any viable solution for how to calm nature, and I accepted her offer."

Saironellotoron II stood up, and sat down beside her and Percival. "I thank you both for your assistance in this endeavour, and I apologise for my being aloof recently, as I have a lot on my mind."

Percival smiled, being a little over 1,320, and waved off his father's apology. "There is nothing to forgive. With your leave."

Saironellotoron II nodded, and the two of them left, running out in a way that reminded him that they were young, innocent, and full of life. He sat down on the throne, his hand resting over his mouth and chin, as he contemplated his eldest daughter's words.

. . .

However, the Elorean Elders had no magic that would allow them to correct the sky's dark veil. They did, however, send along a message. Nature is separate from time, therefore a moment for it could be a century for us.

The message did nothing to assuage Saironellotoron II's fears as the kingdom's food reserves ran out, and the people starved. It had been six months since the famine started and all the crops had died as winter set in. The cold of winter caused even more death, as the people's lack of food made them more susceptible to disease.

Although none of the royals died, they were no better off than the rest of the people. The transmuters of Meneltarma started turning objects into nutrient-rich food but they could not do it fast enough to feed all the people, so many still died, while only Saironellotoron II and Vistanasehí were creating food for the royal family.

Even worse still, there were widespread reports of cannibalism but he could do nothing to stop it. He paced in his throne room, barely sleeping, trying to come up with a way to save the people of Meneltarma, but he was not wise enough, at least as is considered.

On one of the coldest days of winter, a guard came into the throne room, looking like he had lost all hope. "My Lord?" the guard requested, kneeling before Saironellotoron II.

Saironellotoron II gestured for him to rise with one hand, as he stared out of a nearby window into the streets below. "You do not need to call me 'My Lord,' son. I am unworthy of the title. What is it?"

The guard was visibly shaking, as he slowly conveyed: "It is about your Father-in-law, sir."

Saironellotoron II nodded, and replied carelessly, "Very well, send him in."

The guard barely stammered out, "I-I can not-t sir. Saironelloistya is d-dead."

Saironellotoron II whirled on him, before collapsing back against the wall and sliding down it. "Dead! How?"

The guard, who still had not risen in front of him, whispered: "He starved himself to death, sir. He had been refusing food for around a month, but when the cook went to bring him his food this morning, she found him dead, lying next to the corpse of his wife, Aranellevanima."

Saironellotoron II was running to his namesake's old room before the guard could even finish.

. . .

Two minutes later, Saironellotoron II and his sister, Evinyantandil, were standing next to the corpses of their parents. Somehow, Saironelloistya had prevented Aranellevanima from decomposing so that she looked the same that she had the day she died. Saironelloistya, on the other hand, looked as though he had all but withered away, from loss of hope and starvation. A tear ran down Saironellotoron II's face as he looked at his in-laws, and Evinyantandil took her father's hand and began to whisper, casting a spell that caused the visage of Saironelloistya to return to a state which it looked like he had before the death of Morelanor.

Saironellotoron II moved to the foot of the bed and held both of their hands. Another tear slipped out of him, and he, barely coherent, sobbed out, "vistannaondo."

As the spell took effect, their hands began to turn grey and stiff, as their bodies turned completely to stone.

. . .

A year later, the famine had not risen, nor had the darkness subsided. Saironellotoron II sat on the throne, finally accepting that correcting the famine was out of his hands. His people were dying, and he began to lose hope.

On the 20th day of the month of Mornie, cries rose from the watchtower of the guards, ordering the gates to be opened. In rode a half-elven male, clothed in greens and browns, leading an entourage of twenty food-laden carts, guarded by nearly two hundred men with glaives and short-swords. As people rushed towards the promise of food, the man pulled down his hood and then raised his left hand. As he did, the guards lowered their glaives into a defensive position, and the citizens of Meneltarma were forced to stop, barely ten units, from the food.

He looked down on the starving people and smiled. But the smile was not a warm one for it was malicious in nature and form.

"I have some demands for your king!" he bellowed, his voice raising through the streets of the city, all the way up to the Castle, from which the entire Royal Family watched the exchange. "My first demand is that all executive and legislative power, be handed over to me." He scanned the crowd, taking note of their desperation and horror. "My second demand, after which all of this food is yours, is that I would like the head of Saironellotoron II on a golden plate."

Meanwhile, the Royal Family was already arguing with the King, about whether or not the should partake of the man's offer.

Bortoron slammed his fist down onto the round wooden table. "Surely we are not really considering this! His demands are ludicrous."

Saironellotoron stood up, and began pacing, as he exclaimed, "But the people need that food! Is one life worth more than the twenty that will die if we do not get the food for them?"

Nimloth II was not convinced. "Surely there must be another way! One that does not involve your death, Toronnya."

Vistanasehí agreed, "Yes! What if we just went down and seized it, in the name of the people?"

Saironellotoron shook his head. "We do not have the legal power to seize goods from non-citizen merchants." He glanced over at Nimloth and continued. "There may be another way, but I do not see it. Does anyone have any ideas?"

The Royal Family was silent, and that silence filled the dimly lit council room, forbearing shadow and fear. Saironellotoron II rose and nodded toward his family. "Then this meeting is dismissed. Contact me if you have any new plans. I'll be in my study."

With that, he walked out of the room.

. . .

As Saironellotoron II sat in his study, he contemplated everything that was said at the Family Council, as he sealed a letter he had written moments before. He walked calmly over to the door of the study, and called a guard named Narwilin, meaning firebird, which she had been named due to her bright red hair. She bowed upon entry, but he gestured for her to stand up. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Lady Narwilin, I need to make a request of you, that may seem crazy at first, but it needs to be done."

He took a deep breath, and she answered, "I am yours to command, my Lord. What would you have me do?"

"I need you to decapitate me, and send my head to Gygax."

Narwilin seemed to be taken aback. "My Lord?"

"I need you to cut off my head, place it in the box on the chair, and have it sent to the man in the square."

Narwilin carefully drew out her two-handed greatsword, and stated, "They will kill me for this."

Saironellotoron II negated her claim. "On my desk, with an unbroken seal, lies a certification of authentication, stating that my execution was consensual, and my reasons for it. Hand it to Nimloth II. She will understand." He fell silent, and knelt before her, extending his neck out so that she would have an easier swing.

"I am sorry, my Lord," she said, as she raised her sword.

"Do not be," he replied as the blade came swinging down.

. . .

Shortly after, a council meeting was called by Nimloth II, and the entire family came. Nimloth II held a piece of paper, with a now broken purple wax seal, and she called for order. "I have called this meeting to tell you our reply to the man in the square's demands - who is called Gary Gygax - has already been answered by Saironellotoron II" She frowned, her siblings, nieces, and nephews surrounding the table murmuring in confusion. "King Saironellotoron II, second of his name, Lord Of Meneltarma, is dead. In this note," she held up the note, and then set it on the table, "he explains why he had himself executed, though we already know why, and he gives out some final orders."

She picked the note back up, and began to read:

I, Saironellotoron II, King of Meneltarma, hereby resign from the throne of Meneltarma, having failed in my sacred duty to protect the people, and breaking their trust in this manner.

In the last day, a man named Gary Gygax, a lowly Lord of a village near Helkaluksor, came into the kingdom with supplies that the people of Meneltarma desperately need. However, before he would distribute the supplies, he made two demands:

1: All power in the Kingdom of Meneltarma was to be transferred to him.

2: The head of King Saironellotoron II, had to be provided to him.

I, King Saironellotoron II of Meneltarma, have ordered my own execution, to fulfil these demands, for the good of the people. Both of Gygax's demands are to be met without delay, and without malcontent.

To my family: I know this is hard to accept, but I also know that it needed to be done, promptly, to avoid any more unnecessary death, except my own.

Be good to King Gygax, and he will be good to you. Make sure my children are raised well, smart, and strong. Make sure that they know their parents loved them, more than they loved themselves, and that it was my decision, not any of yours, to have myself executed. Now, through my life, perhaps more can be saved.

Perhaps now, I will see my wife again...

Nimloth II stopped, and took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the faces of her loved ones. "It bears his stamp and signatures. These are the words of the King."

Silence once again filled the room, until it was broken by Bortoron, the King's brother. "What do we do now? What can we do now?"

Arinndil lifted his hands from his lap, and stood up, facing Bortoron as he answered, "We honour his memory, and obey his commands. We welcome and assist Gary Gygax as the new King of Meneltarma." He gritted his teeth and walked out of the door, but not before shouting in rage, "Long Live The King!"

. . .

It had been a long three years, but halfway through the second year of King Gygax's term, the darkness lifted from the sky, and the crops began to grow again. The people were overjoyed, and worshipped their new King, as though he himself had chased away the darkness.

But the Royal Family of the Line of Estelondo remembered the price. They could scarce forget that King Gygax had long ago been responsible for the death of the true king, Saironellotoron II, but they bided their time and waited in accordance with his last words.

Gygax had actually done well as King, to a point where there were fewer fatalities in the two years of Darkness under him, than there had been in the year of Darkness under Saironellotoron II. He had kept the people fed, and working, to keep the city running.

In the meantime, the children were growing up. Percival became an Evocation Wizard, completing his trials at the age of 1234, and though he remained closest to Orónëminya, he did become friends with Faramaureä and Metimafoa and they with him.

Orónëminya became an enchantress, completing her trial at the age of 1125 because she had always loved hearing her grandfather regal her with tales of the Legendary Enchantress Nimloth and how she saved Meneltarma. As she aged, her hair slowly changed to raven black, but her piercing blue eyes never changed colour, nor did her peaceful, diplomatic heart.

Metimafoa always felt as though he did not belong in the family because of his role in their mother's death, which was, of course, preposterous. However, this belief influenced his education, and he became a sword master instead, learning and mastering all types of swordplay he could. His favourite weapon quickly became the rapier, and he was soon a member of the King's Guard, based just on his skill with the rapier.

Faramaureä grew to be an elven maiden of great beauty, but like her mother, she cared little for conventional lore magic. Instead, she learned from the Druids of Elorean, and from simply being in nature. Her hair was a shade of auburn-red, and in it, she wove two long braids, which laid across the rest of her curvy hair. She inherited her mother's green eyes and her father's hair colour.

Nothing in life is free, and that was a widely accepted fact in the Land of Quendië ar Aponar. The Royal Family was cautious, therefore, when it came to dealing with King Gygax, awaiting the day when he would demand something in return for saving Meneltarma.

On April 27th, that day came. Gary Gygax had been experiencing some form of attraction for Faramaureä. On April 27th, he requested that she would come to his quarters, to discuss some things of a "political standard."

Faramaureä was confused as to why he called upon her for politics, but she wished to honour her father's memory, and so she obeyed the king's request. When she opened the door, Gygax was already waiting for her, although it was late evening.

"Please come in, and take a seat, Lady Faramaureä." Gygax's voice was low, and soothing, as he helped her to a nearby chair. He sat down directly across from her. "How have you been, Mellonnya?"

Faramaureä smiled thinly, and replied, "I have been well, Your Grace. How have you been?"

Gygax took a deep breath, and replied, "I have been in longing, my Lady."

Faramaureä was genuinely perplexed. "What could you want for? You are the King of Meneltarma. Anything you wish for could easily be retrieved."

The King's eyes traced every inch of her, as he smiled ruefully. "Most things, yes. But of that which I desire, there is only one in the whole world." Gygax gulped nervously, but he bore no other marking of his nervousness. "I desire a special elf-maiden for a wife, but I am unsure if she feels the same about me."

Faramaureä nodded, though she did not truly comprehend. "Give me her name, and I will find out for you. At worst she says 'no,' and you move on."

"Ah, Faramaureä," he explained, "daughter of King Saironellotoron II, and Morelanor, Lady of Elorean. You, are the maiden who I desire. Will you have me, and take my hand in marriage, giving me your hand in return?"

Faramaureä was taken aback. Due to her limited interaction with males of her age range, outside of her family, she had never really considered Gygax for a husband. "While I appreciate the offer, Mellonnya, I am afraid that I have to decline. I have not considered you as a potential spouse, so I do not have feelings for you."

King Gygax arose from his chair and began to pace, feeling at first disappointment, which slowly turned to rage. "So you will not have me then? Are my feelings unrequited? Very well. As the King, I have the right to marry the woman of my choice, but I asked you as a courtesy. However, now that I know that you do not want me for a husband, I do not want you as a wife. But I will have you!"

WARNING TO THE READERS. THIS NEXT SCENE IS VERY GRAPHIC. IF YOU WISH TO AVOID IT, SKIP AHEAD TO THE NEXT SECTION, WHICH WILL BE MARKED WITH MORE OF THIS STYLE WRITING.

As he concluded, he dove over his chair, and seizing her by the throat, struck her across the face before throwing her onto his bed.
Faramaureä stood up and went to scream for help, but Gygax punched her twice quickly, once in the gut, then once in the throat. She doubled over from the first hit, before being knocked back down onto the bed by the punch to the throat. She attempted to draw her dagger but Gygax smacked it out of her hand and it flopped down next to them in the large bed. Holding down her wrists so that she could not defend herself, he reared back, and head-butted with his crowned head, instantly knocking her unconscious.

Gygax took a step back, glad he had gotten the jump on her; otherwise, she probably would have defeated him in one on one combat. Reaching over for the dagger, he began to carefully cut her clothes off of her, making sure not to damage her smooth, tanned skin.

. . .

When he finished, she was still unconscious before him on the bed, a small trail of blood streaming through her hair, which he gingerly wiped away, saying, "I loved you, and now you are mine."

END R RATED SCENE

The next morning, Faramaureä awoke nude in King Gygax's bed, remembering all that had happened to her. When she searched around for Gygax, she discovered that he was already gone, and moments later the emotional reaction to what he had done to her unconscious body caught up with her.

Grabbing a sheet off the bed and wrapping herself in it, she left the king's chambers. She did not cry, but she ran around until she met with a guard on the way to her room who gave her his outer cloak and called to Percival, who was in the nearby garden. It was only when Percival arrived that she began to weeping, tears of horror, pain, loss, and hopelessness.   

. . .

An hour later, Faramaureä had recounted her story to the Royal Family, and they were discussing what to do.

They were all outraged, but it was Bortoron who shouted, "I want his head! I am going to kill him, and I will have his head by nightfall!"

"Easy, Brother, such talk is treason," Vistanasehí stated. "We must have a plan if we are even to think about such things."

"Are you mad?" Arinndil raged, "I, for one, will not idly sit by while he rapes our nieces and daughters." He tilted his head to Evinyantandil with that last comment, because she had married and become pregnant. "I am with Bortoron! We rise up tonight!"

"What if we fail? What can we do when he comes for the rest of the children, and we are all dead? Saironellotoron II gave us specific orders for a reason so that we could keep his children safe!" Nimloth II explained, trying to alleviate the situation.

"And in that regard, we have failed spectacularly." Evinyantandil calmly said, practising the emotional control of her Father. "I, for one, will not stand by and watch him rape my daughter when she comes of age. I vote that we rise up tonight, the sooner the better."

As the arguing went on, until eventually, by a slim majority, it was decided that Gary Gygax must die and that it would occur the next day. Evinyantandil, much to her dismay, was ordered to stay in her chamber, in order to protect the babe. The children, who were now nearing 2000 years old, were also ordered to stay behind, but in the council chamber, ready to flee, if need be, so that the line of Estelondo could endure. The rest of the family, four brothers, and two sisters would all march to challenge Gary Gygax, King of Meneltarma, and lay him down to a eternal rest.

Dear Readers,
I am ending this section here, as my word goal is 3000, and this puts us at exactly 3,800 words. I will be putting the revolution, in what I am now calling an Expologue, the idea of which, is to further develop the story, without counting as my One portion every four to five days. Either way, I apologise for being more graphic than usual with the scene between Gygax and Faramaureä. Violence is one thing, but nonconsensual promiscuous activities are a completely different matter that I usually don't delve into. If you skipped it, that is your prerogative, and more power to you. The actual novel will be starting soon, but it may go longer than I originally anticipated, due to a new writing theory I want to test out, which should make thing more narrative style than the awful explanation in the Three-part One-Shot. It will probably be fifteen to twenty parts, instead of the anticipated ten. I apologise for my constantly changing numbers here. Honestly, I have got to stop making promises on these things. Anyway, I look forward to journeying further with the characters, and I hope you will join me, on this quest. I hope you enjoy!
Sincerely,
Isaiah Joel Oakley Le Istya.