text: (WP) A Special Meal No one knew better than the Demon Queen that every creature and being alive had a price; the only trick was finding it. Different people were moved by different things. Instead of killing her nemesis, perhaps it would be more fun to toy with him in a completely different way. There were only a privileged few who knew of the existence of her only daughter; surely the hero would not harm her child. She was certain if she did this correctly, she would not have to worry about that obnoxious do-gooder any longer. Her mind made up; she summoned her daughter to the throne room. “Yes, Mother, what is it?” Ah, her only child: at nearly eighteen, she was more woman than girl now, with creamy skin, eyes the color of amethysts, and a spill of lilac curls cascading down her back. The Demon Queen told her daughter what she needed from her, and the young woman scowled slightly. “Must I, Mother? I... I don’t think that this is a good idea.” Her response brought the queen up short; this was perhaps the first time that her daughter hadn’t gone along with one of her schemes. If it weren’t such an inconvenience, she would have been proud. “Whatever do you mean, child?” She asked at last, eyebrows arched in surprise. “I don’t want to be a bargaining chip in one of your plans, Mother. I have other purposes, you know. Other choices.” Her voice was surly, and her face turned stormy, the sure sign of an impending tantrum. “I’m not asking you to marry the man,” Her mother replied, in a tone that told her daughter not to push it further. But alas, she did not heed it. “Only to keep him company and... throw him off of my scent, as it were.” “What if I don’t want to?” Violet asked, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t I get a say in this, Mama?” The Queen stared at her half-human daughter; her child had not called her that in years. It took her back to her younger years, in which she hadn’t been an evil monarch, but rather just a mother caring for her child. For an instant, a single, fleeting moment, she considered acquiescing. What was one day, one scheme? Perhaps she was going about this in the totally wrong way. Violet’s father had passed away when she was just six months old. Yes, she would do something else. “Of course, you do, my flower. Go, I’ll do this a different way.” \*\* When the hero entered the castle, he certainly hadn’t expected to be greeted by a set table, candles, flowers, or The Demon Queen herself, sitting at the head. Though he couldn’t see her very well in the near-black, he realized that she was wearing a long gown with a puffy tulle skirt. “I realized that I was going about this in an indelicate manner,” She said at last. “Please, sit. I can promise you, nothing is poisoned. I mean you no harm. I just want to talk.