This choice: Plan against this spreading evil • Go Back...Chapter #4Plan against this spreading evil by: Bikerider   I climbed the stone steps until I reached the top of the turret. As I stood staring out at the realm I felt my anger slowly ebb from my body. There, in the east, the banner of the House Stark fluttered in the wind. A sudden fear gripped me.
"Surely not them," I mumbled. "They are my most loyal subjects. They are industrious, hard working, and most important, they fear me."
I turned my face to the south and frowned. There, across the verdant field lay the remains of the House of Martell followers.
"Lazy, good for nothing buggers," I said. I knew the Martell house members to be the worst of my subjects. They dealt in money games, they drank heavily, they participated in games of chance, and worst of all I knew their intentions, their secret, diabolical intentions.
Shaking my fist at their flags that lay flaccid, I shouted, "Never! You will never wrest the throne from my benevolent grasp." My words were gobbled up by the soft breeze blowing over my shoulders.
I needed a plan. Something simple I told myself. Something no one would suspect. I had to call on my most trusted ally. I walked to the guard standing watch at the head of the stairs.
"You, guard," I said. "Do you know the maestro?
The guard lifted the metal grill protecting the lower portion of his face. "Yes, of course, my queen. Everyone knows him." As he spoke I couldn't help noticing that his beady eyes traveled over my beautiful body. I felt myself warm inside. Stop it! I told myself.
"Go and fetch him," I commanded. "Bring him to me."
I could hear the guard's suit of armor creak as he walked down the stairs, and I vowed to purchase a case of 3-in-1 oil and maybe some WD-40. Maintenance of the guard's protective equipment would be useful when I hatched my plan. I returned to the rampart to wait for the maestro.
As I gazed upon my realm I could hear the sound of metal scraping against metal, and soon the guard stepped from the darkness. He stooped and placed his hands on his knees and he tried to catch his breath. He spoke a moment later, his breathing still a bit labored.
"I'm getting too old for this s--"
"Enough of that kind of talk," I said. How many times had I instructed my commander of the guard to make sure these men stayed in shape? I would see to that later.
"Well," I said. "Did you find the maestro?" Again his eyes traveled over me, and the metal grill covering his face did little to hide the gleam of his blue eyes. Attractive eyes, I told myself. In fact, the way he filled out his chain mail shirt made my skin warm again. But the sound of footsteps on the stone steps pulled me from the beginnings of a rather heated fantasy.
"You called, your highness?" The maestro stood before me. He was not tall, but his broad shoulders spoke of strength. His waist was trim, his thighs powerful, his chest bulged with finely honed muscle. He kept his baton inside the waist band of his tights, its length revealed against his thigh, I sighed at the sight of the the instrument he used to make beautiful music. I had to force my eyes away from him. I turned and spoke to him without looking at him.
"I have come up with a plan that involves music," I said calmly. "And that means you are an integral piece of that plan."
"I am here to serve you, my queen." His words were like a song, soft, sensual, song-like.
I turned to him, and said, "Have you ever heard of this new kind of music?" My eyes rose to the sky as if I would find the right words there. "It's called Rap. Sometimes it's referred to as Hip Hop."
The maestro hesitated, his eyes closed as if he was in deep thought. His hand went to his chin as if in great contemplation. "Yes, my queen, I believe I have heard a trio of musicians in the court yard playing it. There is a strong rhyme factor to it. But the words can sometimes be quite offensive."
"Exactly," I said and turned to him. "I want you to seek out these musicians." I turned my gaze back out to where the House of Martell members staggered in a drunken stupor. I clucked my tongue and shook my head. "What am I going to do with that lot," I asked no one in particular, my words drifting on the breeze.
"With whom, my queen?"
"Nothing, nothing at all, maestro." I turned to him and said. "Bring these rap people to me. Tell them there is something important they can do for their queen."
"Can I give them some small piece of information about what you will require of them?" the maestro asked.
I slowly let my gaze drift back to the south and frowned. "No, maestro. Just tell them I command their presence. Tell them that their music will assist me in keeping my throne."
"As you wish," maestro said as he bowed and slowly stepped back.
I was alone except for the guard whose eyes seemed to follow my every move. I had the remainder of the day with nothing to do. I needed a distraction to fill my time. I turned and admired the guard's physique. Stepping in front of the guard, I spoke slowly.
"What time do you get off word, my protector?"
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