MIDAS
He does not hate the gods but he does not necessarily like them either.
Ancient all powerful beings who sit high above in the 7th realm, altering and meddling in the lives of all the other beings they deemed as lesser than them.
It also goes without saying that with his occasional hard headedness and knack for doing whatever he darn well pleases, he is not the favorite of the gods or their messengers.
But one did not have to like them to listen to them.
Besides feelings aside, only a fool turned a deaf ear to the words of the gods and Midas is anything but foolish.
He mind links Leo as he heads towards the throne room.
The Chief Ryder’s response is instant.
“Your highness”
“The kingmakers…”
“I heard. They have not requested an audience in years. What do you think they wish to say now?”
“Damned if I know. Perhaps the gods have grown bored with how well things have been going in the dragon realm and wish to once again drag us into their messy schemes.”
His chief Ryder laughs at the nearly blasphemous words of the King. “Careful my Lord, you do not want the Fates to cut your life thread shorter out of spite.”
“Let them try. I believe they will find their shears are not sharp enough.”
Leo laughs again. “I shall await your arrival at the entrance to the throne room”
Midas does not know how long the kingmakers of the dragon realm have been alive, with their long white beards and wrinkled skin.
No one really does.
But everyone knows they have been walking the 5th realm for a long, long time.
It is also no secret that they are the messengers of The Fates.
The Fates or The Apportioners are three in numbers, the three daughters of Nyx, the Night god.
Three spinners responsible for assigning individual destinies at birth; Clotho the Present who spun the thread of life, Lachesis the Future who measured its allotted length and Atropos the Past who cut it up with her shears.
Their words are law and once they decided a being’s fate at birth even Zeus has no power to overturn their decrees.
But like all the gods who occupy the 7th realm or the heavens, the Fates think themselves too important to communicate directly with the beings whose lives they control and so they had messengers in all the realms.
The kingmakers are their mouthpiece to the dragonkin of the 5th realm and as Midas walks towards the ancient, powerful beings who await his audience in the throne room, he wonders what message of doom they have brought with them this time.
Leo is standing by the door like he said he would.
“The Ryders from the two clans have also returned with their daily reports.”
“I shall hear whatever news they bring afterwards.”
The guard heralds their entrance and Midas ascends the steps to sit on his throne, Leo standing tall and motionless by his side.
The three men bow in unison, their voices one smooth timbre, like water flowing over a rock.
“Long live the King.”
Midas inclines his head, a small gesture in respect to their position as messengers of the gods.
“I would wish you the same but considering how long you three have been roaming my realm I do not think you need it. You may rise.”
“King Midas, It warms our hearts to see you are in good health.”
“It has been many years. I was surprised to see you three at the royal introduction two days ago. You know funny thing is… I do not remember inviting you.”
The short, bent men stand like they always do with the messenger of Clotho the Present, the one with the longest beard standing in the middle, the other two by his side.
“The gods have been watching you all this time dragon king...”
“I would prefer if they did not.”
“And the Fates send their greetings.”
“You will forgive me if I have not been bothered enough to think about them in the same manner.”
The one in the middle who seems to be their official spokesperson this time smiles and the weathered skin around his grey unseeing eyes crinkles at the edges.
“We have missed your fearless wit King Midas.”
He smiles too but it is a cold smile and it does not quite reach his eyes.
“I am afraid I cannot say the same Arydian. You are here which means they must be bored. Tell me, what new ways have the gods thought of to meddle in the lives of their creations this time?”
“What the gods do dragon king, they do for the good of those they made.”
He does not bother to hide the scoff. “You know what else is funny? I think you actually believe that.”
“The gods are on your side Midas.”
“The gods have and will always be on the side of the gods. I tire of this old man. I am certain the messengers of the Fates did not request an audience for the first time in a hundred and fifty years simply to bring greetings.”
He straightens in his chair. “So what do they demand now?”
Arydian leans on his cane. “The Fates do not send us with demands this time around oh King; Only advice...and a warning.”
Midas leans his cheek against one hand and says nothing in response, quietly watching the three men.
Igor, messenger of Atropos the Past is the one who speaks next.
“The human bride you brought into the 5th realm.”
Midas does not flinch or even bat an eyelid but he is instantly more alert.
He can feel Er’gan perk up as well and when he does speak, his voice is an octave lower, all the earlier brevity gone from his tone.
“What about her?”
“You know the customs of our people Dragon king.”
He raises one eyebrow at Igor, messenger of Atropos the Past. “I did not think it was necessary. We have already been wed.”
“In Averia perhaps, but not before the dragon gods and until the binding and bedding ceremony is carried out in accordance to our traditions, the dragon throne will not accept her.”
Midas’ eyes narrow as he observes the men before him, his gaze shrewd and calculating.
“I do not believe for one minute that the only reason you are here is to tell me I have to have a wedding.”
Arydian meets the King’s eyes with his cloudy grey ones.
“She is your Tether isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“But do you know who she really is?”
A surge of protectiveness, sudden and intense runs through Midas.
He does not want the gods taking an interest in her. It is never a good thing when the gods take an interest in anyone.
But he shows nothing of this on his face. “The Fates do not ask a question they do not know the answer to. So you tell me Arydian, who is she?”
Arydian and his colleagues glance at each other.
Midas does not like the look that passes between them. Does not like it all.
Finally Arydian turns to him.
“If you do not know then it is because the Fates will it to be so and we will not interfere with their work.”
A bark of laughter, harsh and bitter escapes his lips. “Of course”
The day the gods began to send clear messages, would be the day Midas gave up his throne.
They preferred to cause problems, send their messengers with vague riddles of doom and watch the beings they made scramble to solve them.
And his many years alive have taught Midas it is no use trying to convince them to tell more than a portion at a time.
So he simple nods once and sits up straight. “I have heard your words wise ones and I will heed your advice. The binding ceremony shall take place in two days.”
The men nod in response to his words and bow again. “You are a good King Midas and the gods are pleased with you.”
Midas tilts up his chin and gazes down at them “I do what I do for my people not for the gods or their pleasure.”
“Be that as it may, you have it either ways.”
They turn to leave but before they can get to the door, Midas calls out to the oldest of the three men, the one called Arydian.
“You said you brought advice and a warning. You have only told me one of those things.”
The kingmakers and the king stare at each other in thick, charged silence.
His question was aimed at the messenger of Clotho the present but the one who speaks next is Elian, messenger of Lachesis the Future who has not said a word this entire time.
His voice is an eerie, croaky whisper and he makes no attempt to raise it yet it carries across the room as well as it would have had he been shouting on the top of his voice.
He stares at the king, eyes unseeing.
“The skies are dark and the clouds are heavy with the whispers of rain and the echoes of far off thunder. A storm is brewing dragon king. A storm that will shake your realm and all the others with it. And at the center of this storm lies the human girl you have brought into your castle. Be very… very careful.”
And without so much as another word, the three Kingmakers depart from the king’s presence.
Their words however remain in the throne room long after they are gone.
Midas can feel his Chief Ryder looking at him.
“Speak Leo before your eyes drill holes in the side of my head.”
Leo stares straight ahead. “What do you intend to do?”
“I intend to do nothing.”
He does not need to glance at his chief Ryder and royal advisor to know he is raising the brow with the scar, the only indication of his surprise at the king’s words.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing” He repeats.
“Tell me Leo, of what use is a warning from the gods if our fates and destinies have already been decided at birth by the very same gods?”
Leo says nothing like Midas knew he would.
“What will happen, will happen, with or without our contribution and I will not be ruled by fear. Send in the Ryders with the daily reports from Adarin and Rardath. “
“Yes my King.”
“Oh and Leo… have word sent across the realm and inform the chief Steward that we have a royal wedding to prepare for.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The chief Ryder leaves the room with a bow.
Midas sits alone in silence, the only sound echoing in the room are those of his finger drumming quietly against the hand of his throne.
The dragon stretches inside of him.
“A storm eh…”
“So it would seem Er’gan…so it would seem.”
Midas wonders vaguely if this has anything to do with the problems between Rardath and Adarin’s clans.
A hundred and fifty years of relative peace and now… this.
“Fine. Let the gods bring what they will…we have been getting bored anyway.”