插播一小段:
刚开始用英文写的原文,大部分都删了不过…比中文的好多了。。
“I am Prince Nuada, Silverlance, leader of the Golden Army. Is there anyone who disputes my right?” Nuada’s words echoed and died in the far recesses of the arena. No response was forthcoming from the silent eggs. The sister also stood, a mute witness to his proclamation. The newly crowned king’s expressions seemed to grow bored or dispassionate, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was ready to give out commands: he wanted this over - and fast.
“Kill them.” the sister heard him say, simple words with royal power, delivered without heat.
“Don’t do it.” she approached to his ear and pleaded, in their Gaeilge tongue. That brought a distasteful look to Nuada’s face, his expressions quickly went impatient, then grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her close to him - she was unable to leave, unable to help.
“I challenge Prince Nuada - for his right to command this army!” Hellboy yelled across the arena, to the elfin pair up on the huge gear, when he realized that there was no chance for him to win the 4900 indestructible mechanic soldiers.
“You challenge me?” the prince questioned loudly. “Who are you to challenge me? You are nobody! You’re not royalty!”
“Yes, Yes!” Nuala broke away with a wriggle, (his hand persisted for a second, but then let her go without a trace while she tried to rebel so desperately. She herself must have noticed for sure, or else she couldn’t do such a thing without a scratch.) “He’s Anung Un Rama - son of the Fallen One. He has the right! A challenge must be answered!” She reminded him, her words echoed in the great hall. Her brother twisted his head, yet did not turn all the way to look at her, (she was inwardly winced for a beat, the move seemed familiar to her, it resembled, when he asked her opinion of the King’s verdict. His twisted head so seemed like a ) Nuala still captured his expressions anyhow: a mix of incomprehension, hurt, and resignation. The lampoon contained in those golden eyes that resembled hers seemed to deride himself for believing, her face softened a bit, almost frightened at his reaction and felt she winced inwardly, but outside, still persistent.
With a bitter smile, Nuada picked up his spear.
“Very well then.”
……
The prince raised his dagger, reared back and then stopped. Blood blossomed on the front of his robes, spreading rapidly.
He had been wounded, badly from the looks of it.
His expression went quickly from anger to confusion to understanding. He turned slowly, looked up at the sister in distance.
Slowly, she drew out the weapon from her body and gasped. Her wound - staining her robes into a deep color - matched his exactly. Their gazes met each other’s from a distance, silently communing with each other.
“Nuala…” he called, gasping for breath but in a soft voice, in their Gaeilge tongue, he said, “Sister.” His expressions grew pale, feeble, and bleak, with an emotion that not even she could identify.
Nuala allowed herself to collapse and soon after, the prince followed, sinking to his knees. Her eyes fluttered as she observed the fallen prince raised his eyes once more to meet hers, they shared one last look of mutual understanding - love and hatred.
Then, the colors faded away from their bodies as they gradually turn into stone.
The royal princess snapped open to stare blindly at the ceiling as fear in her beautiful golden eyes faded. She sat up, her gaze fell onto her hands.
A dream? Was it only a dream?