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The Dereskian Queen	By : LadyMoria Category: +G through L > He-Man Views: 2856 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own He-man, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
Epilogue
The Overlord of Evil thundered in his rage alone in his throne room. After the most recent attack on Castle Grayskull, which had, as always, failed, his cohorts had wisely decided to give their master some time to himself.
They sat in one of the many caverns of Snake Mountain, far enough away from their master to escape his rage, but close enough to hear his screams echo from the walls. There were six of Skeletor’s minions present today. Beast-man, Tri-klops, Clawful, Trap-jaw, and Whiplash all sat in the room, talking amongst themselves. Evil-Lyn sat in a corner by herself, tapping her crystal ball and watching the images change. After a time she paused, and a small sigh escaped her lips. She was bored.
She heard the others laughing not far away, and rolled her eyes. Men, she thought sarcastically. Now what could they possibly find entertaining?
Deciding she not nothing better to do, she rose from the rock she had been sitting on and walked over to the others.
“Oh yeah,” Beast-man was saying. “You know what I heard? I heard that she took three guys’ heads off with one slice of an ax, then used the same ax to skin them before the wounds stopped bleeding.”
Tri-klops noticed Evil-Lyn’s approach, and he scooted over to make room for her. “We’re talking about a possible new recruit,” he told her. “Apparently some woman sent Skeletor a message the other day, saying she wanted to join up.”
Evil-Lyn’s head turned towards the others. “And which of you heard this interaction take place?”
Clawful rose one of his namesakes “Duh, I did, Evil-Lyn. I was in the room when he got it.”
“I see,” Evil-Lyn said. Well, if it was Clawful who had started this conversation then it probably had some basis in fact. That one was too stupid to make up something very original.
“Well, then, Clawful,” she said in the slightly sarcastic tone that was her trademark. “Did this woman have a name?”
“Duh, Oh yeah. She said her name was ‘The Darkwoman,’” Clawful said, pleased that Evil-Lyn was talking to him. She very rarely did, for some odd reason that he didn’t understand. He just figured she was thrown off by his fearsome look. Unfortunately, he was too idiotic to realize she was actually thrown off by his idiocy.
Evil-Lyn turned back to Beast-man. “And you’ve…heard of this woman?”
Beast-man snarled. “We all have. Apparently there’s lots of stories going around about her,” he said, giving her a haven’t-you-heard-anything look.
“I heard she might even be related to the Dereskian queen. Apparently her coloring is the same,” Tri-klops said, breaking the ice between Beast-man and Evil-Lyn. Those two never had liked each other all that much.
“Really?” Trap-jaw asked. “You mean she has the white hair and those freaky purple eyes?”
Tri-klops was about to answer, when an ‘ahem’ sound came from Evil-Lyn. Everyone looked over to her, and her ‘freaky purple eyes’ flashed and whirled.
“Ummm, sorry,” Trap-jaw said quickly. “I didn’t mean any offense, Evil-Lyn.”
The only woman in the room shook her head disdainfully. “I’ve wasted enough time listening to you all drabble on about some woman who may or may not join us.” She stood up and left the room, heading back towards the now-silent throne room.
Skeletor was sitting in his chair, conversing with a hooded figure completely hidden from view. When he noticed her entrance, Skeletor sat up in his chair.
“Ah. Evil-Lyn,” he said. “Do come in. Allow me to introduce you to the Darkwoman.The The hooded figure turned toward the young woman, and if either of them heard the small intake of breath that came from beneath the dark hood, they didn’t show it. She bowed her head in recognition, not saying a word.
“Are the others behind you?” he asked in his oddly pitched voice.
The young woman was slightly thrown off by the hooded woman. She nodded her head back, and then answered. “No, Skeletor,” Evil-Lyn said, crossing her arms with her staff clutched to her chest. “Would you like me to go get them?”
“Yes,” Skeletor said simply, and his second in command turned to go.
The Darkwoman smiled beneath her hood. “Is it not customary to say ‘please’ when asking someone to do something, Lord Skeletor?”
Evil-Lyn paused and turned around, with the odd feeling that she had heard the voice that came from the shrouded figure somewhere before. She looked deep into the recesses of the cloak, and thought for the briefest moment she could see the faint glimmer of amethyst eyes.
“Not usually,” Skeletor answered, breaking the momentary silence. “We tend not to follow proper etiquette in Snake Mountain. I find it takes up time.” He emphasized the last word while looking at Evil-Lyn, a faint red glow coming into the place where his eyes should have been.
She took the hint and went off to get the others.

When she had gone, the Darkwoman continued. “Saying one additional word takes up time, my Lord?” her voice contained a slightly amused hitch, which was not lost upon Skeletor. “I find that unlikely.”

“Then let me just say that we have no use for etiquette here, Darkwoman,” his voice grew to the dangerous tone that his cohorts knew so well.

The hooded woman gave no indication of fear. She smiled, and Skeletor could tell, even with the hood covering her face. “It has been my experience that everyone has a use for good manners, Skeletor. Even a self-titled ‘Overlord of Evil.’”

The man in question’s eye sockets began to redden even more. “You are walking on thin ice, Darkwoman. Take care you do not fall in, or you might not find anyone who will be willing to aid you.”

She bowed slightly. “Touché.”

Evil-Lyn entered with the others then, and a handful of gasps filled the room when they beheld the robbed figure. “Boys,” Evil-Lyn said, “This is the Darkwoman. Madame, may I present to you: idioidiots.”

A small laugh arose from both Skeletor and the hooded figure as Evil-Lyn received glares and growls from the men in question.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, gentleman,” the Darkwoman said, nodding her head.

The others looked quite stupefied.

“Yeah...okay.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You, too.”

“Pleasure’s all mi-”

“Uh…sure.”

The replies filtered out of their mouths, and no one really knew (or cared) which had come from which.

Skeletor looked pointedly at the cloaked woman. “See what I mean?”

She nodded, the cloak billowing around her movement.

“Good,” Skeletor said, and then addressed his minions. “The Darkwoman wishes to join us. I’ve told her that she’ll have to hold her own against you all. Do you think you can manage?” They nodded in unison. “Good,” he continued. “Evil-Lyn, come here.” She approached and stood in her customary place beside the throne. “You will stay and watch, and will fight only if she beats the others. Understand?”

The young woman smiled. “Of course, Skeletor,” she answered, smiling up at him in her sweet, deliciously evil fashion.

Skeletor did his own version of a smile as the Darkwoman walked out to the center of the floor.
“I’m ready,” she said, gesturing to the others. “Are you?”

“Don’t you have any weapons?” Beast-man asked, about to move frd. rd.

“Weapons?” the Darkwoman asked, slightly bemused. “Oh,” she said, is if having forgotten something. “Of course.” She moved the long sleeves or her robe down her arms as mid-sized balls of amethyst light appeared in each of her palms. The spheres elongated, finally forming two tangible and very lethal-looking katana-like swords. The sleeve of her robe slid over the length of the sword. “Oh, this silly thing,” she said, putting both her swords in one hand. “Just a moment.”

She used her free hand to remove the mid sections of her robe in a single fluid motion, leaving the hood and a cape-like piece at the back. Beneath that, she wore a sleek, extremely long silver and back gown, with slits up the side to allow free movement. The top was tight but not overly so, and one arm was entirely cased in black material, with a ring of fabric around the middle finger. The other arm was completely bare as the dress ended at her shoulder. From her bodice up, the dress was little more than spider webbed black lace, beginning at the tops of her breasts and continuing all the way up to form a black circlet around her neck. Her boots were slender but sensible, going all the way up to the knee with black and silver crisscrossed laces running up the sides. The entire ensemble was very appealing.

“I’m prepared,” she said, an amused tone to her voice as she switched her sword back to her hand.

“Whoa,” said Trap-jaw and Beast-man together.

“Nice get-up,” the latter said, walking forward.

The Darkwoman whirled her swords in her hands. “Thank you. I’ rather fond of it.” As Beast-man walked forward, she laughed softly. “Only one? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Trap-jaw!” Skeletor said, “Go humor her.”

The minion in question stepped forward. “You got it, boss.” He charged the hooded woman, Beast-man joining in as they sped toward her.

“Now that’s more like it,” she said, jumping into the air and using the blunt ends of her swords to knock both men on the ground as they past by. Beast-man didn’t move, but Trap-jaw arose and charged her again. This time, she whirled to the side and ght ght both dull sides of her blades down upon the back of the minion’s metal skull. He went down will a dull clang.

The Darkwoman looked amusedly back towards the throne. “Next?” she asked, laughing slightly.

At Skeletor’s command, the remaining three men ran towards her. Clawful went down first as she jumped over his head and landed on his back, winding him rather effectively. Next was Whiplash, who tried to use his tail to whack the swords out of her hands. She let him wrap his tail around them, and then flipped the swords in her hands, used his own momentum to swing him up into the air and land on top of Trap-Jaw. A blast from Tri-Klops’ beam sent her sprawling, but she was up in a flash. Tri-Klops had not rushed forward with the others, he had stayed behind, climbing up into the many caverns and gaining the high ground.

She located where the blasts were coming from and smiled beneath her hood. The Darkwoman walked calmly over to the nearest wall, avoiding the blasts almost happily. She reached out her hand, sword and all, to the wall, and it passed through in a flash of amethyst light. The rest of her went through, and she completely disappeared. Tri-Klops looked around for his target, but coult fit find her. She appeared out of the wall beside him, kicking him from behind and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

She jumped down from the cavern, tucking in her arms and landing gracefully on her feet. Tri-Klops had not fared so well, as he had fallen upon the crumpled from of Beast-man. None of them were moving.

Had Skeletor still possessed his eyes, they would have widened at the sight of this hooded woman defeating his best troops without so much as breaking into a sweat. He looked at his side, and smiled. Well, maybe not his best troops. He looked toward Evil-Lyn and gestured for her to go forward. Let’s see how the Darkwoman did against the Dark Mistress of the Mountain.

Evil-Lyn walked forward slowly, and raised her magic staff, the ball on the end glowing brightly. The Darkwoman saw her, raised her hands with the swords in them, and let them turn once more into balls of light, which then went back into her hands.

“I will not fight you, young woman,” she said softly. If one were listening carefully, one would have heard a slight pained tone to the Darkwoman’s voice.

The younger woman’s eyes quivered almost angrily. “My name is Evil-Lyn, and why not?”

The Darkwoman stepped closer to the young spellcaster. “I am aware of what your name is, little one. But it is not Evil-Lyn.”

From his seat upon the throne, Skeletor watched the proceedings with interest. It seemed this was going to be entertaining after all.

He watched as his second-in-command’s eyes grew pupil-less in her anger, and a bolt of amethyst light erupted from her staff.

The Darkwoman merely raised one of her hands, and the beam hit a force field, causing silver light to dance around the room.

“Impressive,” the spellcaster said, bringing her staff up to fire another blow.

The elder woman jumped out of the way and used her Majicks to springboard into the air. bol bolt of light passed harmlessly by.

“I will not fight you!” she said loudly, somersaulting in midair and landing elegantly on her feet. Evil-Lyn ignored her, firing a more powerful blast from her staff. The elder woman raised another shield, one that was stronger than the last and engulfed the beam, adding it to the Darkwoman’s power.

The younger woman expecting something of the sort, and ran to the Darkwoman, using her staff to knock the elder woman’s feet out from under her.

The elder woman fell to the ground and felt the spellcaster’s hand remove the hood from her head.

Her extremely long, moon-colored hair tumbled forth and cascaded around her body. She felt the staff digging into her back. The older woman twisted her hand around, grabbed the end of the staff, coiled beneath it, and whirled up into the air, landing, nearly breathless, on her feet.

Evil-Lyn, breathing hard as well, swung her staff around and aimed a blow directly into the elder woman’s hea

“Moritënia! Kin’ neintë de scironïa!” she said, opening her eyes and watching as the young woman froze in her tracks.

The amethyst eyes of the younger woman stared into the brilliant amethyst eyes of the Darkwoman. Evil-Lyn heard the elder woman’s words echoing in her head and subconsciously translated them. Moritënia, I will not fight you.

Skeletor sat up in his chair as he heard those words. He had heard that language before, and struggled to place where.

The younger woman’s heart began to beat faster in her chest. “By what name do you call me?” she asked, unaware that she was speaking in a language other than Eternian.

“Wëe lin entë. Moritënia, Deänia de Moria, il Morifania deia il Dereskïgiä,” The older woman replied, the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes.

Once again, the translation echoed in the younger woman’s mind. By your own. Moritënia, Daughter of Moria, the Dereskian Queen of legend.

“Quiseque onia li dia?” Evil-Lyn asked, aware that she was speaking in a language she had never known she knew. Who are you, that know my birth name?

The older woman faltered. Tears began to run slowly down her face. “Mez cantië Moria, Morifania deia il Dereskïgiä,” she said softly in her native tongue, letting the tears fall onto the ground.

Moritënia, for that was her birth name, felt her eyes widen in shock. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. The older woman’s words echoed in her mind, and would not fade. My name is Moria, the Dereskian Queen.

The younger woman’s eyes widened and then closed as their owner spoke in Eternian. “Skeletor,” she said softly. “I cannot fight this woman.”

The Overlord of Evil growled angrily, “Why not, Evil-Lyn?”

The young spellcaster opened her eyes and locked them with those of the woman before her. The two pairs of amethyst eyes brimmed with tears, and each let them fall unfettered.

“Because,” Evil-Lyn answered softly, “she’s my mother.”
………………………………………..
- 11
- 12
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The Dereskian Queen