Elerde of Brittany Gloats

I can see him there, the king, that hulking fellow, perplexed,. annoyed, uncertain what he can do about it. I smile my supercilious smile and drive him that much further to madness. It seems the reviewers like me, the villain, more than he. Were I a kind man I would reassure him. Villains, especially sexy ones, are almost always the favorites. But I am not kind. That is part of my charm.

Look at him, standing there in his Aragornian splendour. For all that, one reviewer judges him dull. I cannot keep a chuckle from erupting from my lips. The lady, my heart's desire, was promised him by her father. She did not choose him. He thinks she will choose him now and forever. If that is true it is because she likes how safe he is. That other, the Ulsterman, the bard that plays at being a catamite, is safe but mayhap too much so. Under her chill exterior there beats a heart full of lust, of longing for the dangerous, for a fierce Breton mercenary who will fulfill her every submerged fantasy. Just you wait and see.

You may think the rivalry is at an end, your grace, but you may be mistaken. I am not so easily dismissed. Unlike you, my liege, who must remain tethered to your land, I am free to wander the round world, and thus may I turn my steps back to your land, your fortress, your lady. Be aware, my king, that everything in life is but held by a silken thread. She will become tired of you, sirrah. It will take far less than my sword to sever that tie between you.

Why do they find you boring when your doting creatrix did not design you so? You are too human. You are strong but your feet threaten to become clay. You are impulsive and make mistakes. You are, I suppose glad of it, not the melodramatic oaf of the Old Stories, banishing yourself for killing my predecessor/twin, or lying foolishly on your sword and wounding yourself, or being enchanted by that sorceress and killing her in your delusion. Mayhap the reviewers would have liked you better thus. The creatrix made you less puerile but even your badness leaves then cold. You tried to kill me, I tried to kil you, but I have all the points on my side. You are too good, too kind, too just, and make them weary and wish to turn vack to me. How long will it be before like them, your lady, your queen, does the same?

It seems that I am capable of no end of perfidy yet I am absolved. I court a woman who is wed to the king I serve. I betray my position and help a wicked friend elude the very law I am charged with maintaining. I join with him and the most iniquitous of men to despoil the very homeland of the woman I love. I take arms against her kin. I join with a blackguard to destroy your lord and do not move to protect your brother until it is almost too late. I send my servant to murder your husband in cold blood. I put your children through a hell of fear and misery. Yet not only do the reviewers love me, you, you my Josephina, allow me to take you away where your larhe Saxon husband with his big cow eyes shall never find you. If that does not prove I am the better man, then what shall?

So go on puzzling, O Great and Oafish King, for your creatrix may care for you, but few others do. Do not bother to try to think of a way to be more interesting. You haven't the imagination.

Cretrix's Note: Don't forget, Elerde. I get the last word... literally.