A Destined Legacy Ch. 02

"Well, I'm a nerd, with internet access, and my dad has- had a certain philosophy that he was always more than willing to share with his children. Even to the consternation of some of his wives and children," Rhod replied, his grin only faltering slightly at his own mistake.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, Angela played along. She thought that she should comfort him, but something told her that that wasn't what Rhod needed now. He needs to play a bit. I mean, he grew up a prince for fuck's sake. Now he is a Duke, with people that might try and kill him. There is time to talk, later.

"And that would be?" Angela asked playfully.

"Two for one," Rhod smirked. "Beorthric told my siblings and I that your partner should orgasm at least twice to your one."

"And about yours..." Angela purred, as she closed the distance between them. She grasped his hand and pressed one of his slickened fingers to her lips. She smiled at his look of awe and wrapped her lips around the tip of his finger. She swirled her tongue around his finger, moaning as she tasted herself.

She sucked intensely on his finger for a few seconds before pulling back. Rhod's finger exited Angela's mouth with a pop.

"Hurry up in there, a flight steward and I need the bathroom!" shouted a voice from the other side of the door, startling Angela and Rhod.

Thomas gave off a small sniff as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had betrayed his father, and his father had all but forsaken him. But he knew, deep down, that he still loved his father, and his father loved him. They may not have spoken in thirty-four years, but Thomas was sure that Beorthric had died loving his fallen son.

Thomas took his eyes off the black SUV in front of him to look at his passenger when he felt her hand on his thigh. Sitting next to him was his third wife, Beatrice, a sad smile lingering on the brunette's face as she met his eyes.

"I know that you miss him, Thomas, but he banished you and your descendent from the throne. It's okay to mourn what could have been, but do not let him ruin your life anymore."

"Bea... We've been through this. He didn't do anything. It was my fault. It's as simple as that," he said wistfully before turning his eyes back to road.

"Thomas, please," she pleaded as her hand moved to his face.

"No, Beatrice. I take responsibilities for my flaws, unlike some of my siblings."

"Then at least claim the crown of England. It is rightfully yours as the eldest, wisest, and strongest of the Eng-"

"Absolutely not, Beatrice! I have had to watch four women I love die for my mistakes. If... If I had to watch you, or Alyssa, or Coya die. I-It would break my heart. I refuse to paint a target on you-"

Click!

Thomas froze midsentence and swallowed. He knew that sound: it was the cocking of a revolver.

"Oh, well," Bea said from the passenger seat, her smug satisfaction evident in her voice alone. "I tried to save your life dear husband. Guess I'll just have enjoy being Randall's loving wife."

"Hello, Grandfather," growled a gravelly voice from behind Thomas. "You think that York will like being known for your death?"

"Randall don't do this. You don't want to do this," Thomas said as he looked in the rearview mirror. It was indeed Randall behind him, with a large revolver in his right hand. Randall's smooth head was all that he could see, along with a hint of the yellow vein that ran through him. But a hint was all Thomas needed; after all, the yellow contrasted with the lad's black skin.

"Randall, if you do this, it will mean war between your mother and her siblings."

"Au contraire, Thomas. War is even sided; this will be a slaughter," Bea said from beside him.

"They'll kill your children too, Beatrice," Thomas angrily countered. "They won't spare them just because you hel-"

"Let them! They're insolent shits!" Beatrice snapped. "Besides, Randall's cock is better than yours, and with it, he'll breed me better children!"

Thomas watched as Randall turned away slightly to say something to Beatrice. Sensing an opportunity to try and avoid his fate, he hit the brakes.

Thomas jerked forward, hearing both Randall and Beatrice shout. Then nothing. He was alive, and there was a ringing in his ears. Thomas slammed on the gas and steered the car out of behind the big blocker SUV.

He looked down at his body for a second. No blood, gore, or holes. I'm fine. I'm alive! The little shit missed!

Thomas looked in the side mirror in time to see a smoke trail reach the SUV, which exploded into a fireball. hit the SUV behind him, part of his personal guard. A second after the SUV was gone, replaced by a fireball. It's a fucking ambush! God fucking damnit!

As he finished his thought, he watched as a pickup truck came racing up from behind. The machine gun on the top of the cab gave him little hope. Any he had left about the situation at hand was vaporized as spider webb

As his hearing returned, Thomas shouted, "Beatrice! We are going to have a long talk about this when we get to the castle. Bea?" He turned to the left to look at the passenger seat. The dash and the windows were covered in red, with flecks of pink and white. Beatrice was slumped against the console, not moving.

"Bea!"

Thomas quickly looked to the back seat, seeing the unconscious form of his grandson. The anger bubbling into his chest was replaced by despair.

The bitch! I loved her, Thomas thought, thinking of both his daughter Eleanor and his beloved wife, I treated her like a goddess. She betrayed me, and I still loved her. And now Beatrice isShe's dead now. I got her killed. Thomas felt an emotional black hole develop in his heart. Hot tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. Even if he had turned around to watch the road, he wouldn't have seen the river Ouse, not until he was in it. , and obscuring the River Ouse.

As the sun rose over the cities of York and Nottingham, it awoke their residents to horrific news. Duke Thomas Beohrtricson Wessex of Deira was missingwas ambushed in early hours of morning. A car believed to be carrying him and his wife, Beatrice, plunged nearly twenty feet into the River Ouse. At the site where his car ran off the bridge, Duke Thomas' security forces caught up a killed several well-armed men in a short but deadly firefight. The news reporters managed get a photo of one man as he was shot, he was the spymaster of Mercia, a lackey of the Duchess of Mercia, Eleanor Badrasdohtor Mercia.

The sun may have greeted the rescue workers trying to locate and retrieve the Duke's car, but dark clouds quickly blotted out the sun as they found and pulled the car from the river. Stunned silence met the rescuers as they found only the body of Duchess Beatrice in the vehicle. Then it seemed the sky opened, shedding tears over the area, as if it was crying for the battle about to be fought over the Duchy.. Crying over the coming war as the acting regent, and heir apparent pledged vengeance upon his half-sister.