Summary: Gyendal thinks Mel is an idiot for sending Yemite off to go find Edward.
He had been waiting for this moment. He had immediately seen this loophole the moment Mordred gave him the order, and he eagerly awaited the result. It was the only reason why he followed through on that blasted order that he so loathed to obey. The reason why he didn't really bother devising a new plan to take care of the dark disciples. He could if he had wanted to, but why bother when he could just sit back and let things take care of itself?
Gyendal leaned back against the doorframe, listening to the conversation Mel was having with the darkling inside. He couldn't deny that he was a little anxious. Had he been anyone else he might have been giggling with excitement, but he wasn't anyone else so he settled on crossing his arms. The darkling was saying something about how she – it? – had been appointed as the queen's personal servant (through some sort of howling contest, where he was unfortunate enough to be dragged in as the judge). Funny creatures, those darklings were. They truly did care about nothing but to serve “the queen”. He had to brainwash the bunch he took to Veldarah so that they would not question the way he was treating their “queen”.
He had to laugh when Mel's first order was to get her out of there. He had been expecting that. Naturally, the darkling told her no. And now, this was it. What he had been so eagerly waiting for. Gyendal found himself holding his breath in anticipation.
Go ahead, Mel, tell your little darkling to get rid of the dark disciples, he thought, grinning. You just heard what it said. All the darklings are under your command. Tell them to get rid of those hooded maniacs.
His smile fell when he heard her ask for the stupid prince to be brought to her.
No. No. NO. She wouldn't... She can't be seriously thinking –
But she did. There was a poof, and he knew the darkling had left.
Gyendal remained rooted in place, feeling as though his insides had frozen.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. His mind repeated over and over, but he couldn’t tell if he was cursing Mel or himself.
She could have gotten rid of those stupid disciples and it would have done them both much good.
He should not have hinged all his plans on an assumption.
She should have at least asked for someone more helpful, like his sister or her husband.
He should not be feeling this despaired over one glitch in his plans.
With a sigh, Gyendal dragged himself away from the wall, still feeling rather numb. The musty air in the cathedral must have finally gotten to him.
Oh, the woes of needing air to breathe.
His steps toward the door were sluggish and heavy, however. His mind swirled with wordless thoughts. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. How peculiar.
Perhaps he has caught an illness. He had not had a good sleep in goddess knows how long. He rubbed his forehead. Here he thought he had long since adjusted to not being undead.
No matter. He would pick up an elixir in the village. Maybe a little food too, just in case. He would need a clear mind to plan his next moves.
This time, he would not fail.
A/N: Yanno, this seemed to be originally meant to be something longer, but I TOTALLY forgot what I wanted to do with it, so I just cut and tidied up the bit I left off with and ended it there.
What Gyen is feeling is how I usually feel when I'm like "OMG. OMG. OMG. NO, this is NOT happening. NO. NO. NO. NO!!! I'm dreaming. I'm seeing things wrong. NO."
So. No shipping intended with that (not really anyway).