Thread: Allegiant [MRAZ and Domovoi]

RE Allegiant Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk . The guards' armor could be heard making its way down the halls even from where she sat, rhythmic and purposeful. All this posturing was tiresome. Such a big show to be made, yet by day's end, it meant nothing. Truly, they could not afford to waste such effort. However, appearances must be kept, and Queen Lenara Edhelbor knew the consequences for failure they were too dire to risk. Nearly two years since Meike had been in the homeland state, two years since her and Sir Cedric Balthair Leandro had left on a mission. Sir Leandro had been her father's right hand man and trusted confidante, now dead. Two years... Somehow, it felt like so much longer. Time slowed to a crawl as she watched her father die and took over his position as leader, the weight of her new title being dropped on her shoulders like a bucket of icy water dumped over her head. No amount of grooming had prepared her for this. Pushing some locks of blonde fringe from her face, she straightened her posture on her throne, making certain the guards hadn't seen her momentary slouching. Quick fingers ran through her long hair, adjusting the way it curtained down her shoulders. She knew they musn't see the signs of her fatigue. Morale was the most important thing for her army to have, as a soldier's purpose was the fiercest whetstone, and the men of all ranks tended to gossip like spinsters once the mead began to flow. Tales of the lazy, slouchy queen would spread like a plague. Perish the thought. Another two years surely passed before the clanking of armor brought the prisoner before her. A scruffy girl, a bit older than she remembered why this came as a surprise was beyond her fathom, was plonked at the foot of the royal chair quite unceremoniously, blades threatening her life in proximity of the queen. One above and one below, a deadly collar to match her iron shackles, painting quite the picture of helplessness before her. With one assuring gesture of her hand, she had the guards stand down, an order they followed immediately - albeit with clear distaste. Meike Dietrich, Pale blue eyes looked fiercely at the other woman. The toll, physical and mental, that gaining such a high rank had taken on Lenara would be plenty visible to her old friend, and a part of her hated that fact. A firmly set jaw and the hardened remnants of a happy-go-lucky gaze, dark circles and withered complexion giving away her sleep deprivation. In these uncertain times, becoming queen had also meant becoming the general of a war difficult decisions weighed on her mind, people looked to her for guidance and leadership, the lives of countless subjects rested in her hands, and all this following so closely after the loss of so many beloved family members. Twenty-four looked more like late thirties. For the crimes you committed, you were sentenced to execution, She began, the woman's voice staggeringly deadpan. But I believe you've more information to share before we're truly done with you, The frowns on her guards' faces upset her. They must consider it foolish, what with the lengthy interrogation the prisoner had already gone through and to no avail. Worse yet, they could believe her to be favoring Meike simply due to their long-standing relationship, hesitating to execute an old friend and postponing it based on emotion. You should be grateful for my mercy. Any other leader would slit your throat themselves simply for the trouble my men have gone through searching for you. Mercy. An unwilling gift. The knight's betrayal cut deeper than it should have someone she'd known for so long, a dear friend, a childhood hero. Honestly, regardless of their difference in status, she looked up to the rough and tumble tomboy swearing to protect her, and in her foolish daydreams she truly believed those words. Never did she imagine a future where Meike hadn't taken Sir Leandro's place to serve at her side. But Meike had come willingly, and there was more to be told about the goings on, information obviously available. There was a foolish and nave part of Lenara that had wanted to march down to Meike's cell and demand an explanation, sit down to talk like old friends, not as royalty versus rabble. The knight's guilt was shining as blatant as her guards' armor, but friendship and loyalty did not fade so easily. Again, however, posturing and maintaining appearances was of such importance that it was more game than genuine action. That was all her conversations ever amounted to lately, in fact games where she and others put on faces and put on shows, trading masks back and forth to achieve a mutual goal. It was artificial. It was unnatural. It made her sick. So thus, she would play the game. Make a show of it. Pulling a blade from the hilt at her side, a glorious ceremonial sword that, although she'd never had cause to wield it and mar its beauty, could slice through her enemies with ease. Could she use it? Of course. Meike herself had been the one to teach her swordplay when they were growing up together. I shall give you one last opportunity to speak the truth, at the exchange of imprisonment over death, Imprisonment in the poor conditions of the dungeon was probably trading down rather than up, but this was more posturing. Her hope was that she'd be able to free the woman surely Meike could not have... There had to be some explanation! The shattered remnants of her broken heart reached and grasped for any possible alternative to Meike having been the one to participate in such a massacre. Leave us, I will speak with the prisoner alone, Looking over her shoulder at the two subjects posted beside the throne, she explained, Only my personal servants may remain, as I can handle one bound peasant on my own, Again, displeasure from the guards, but as before the obedience was immediate - though their slow departure gave away their desire to both stay and to hear the impending conversation. Once they were out of the room, she sighed deeply, body untensing. Around Meike, the airs she put on could be dispelled, even now. Oh, Meike... Despite the quality of the finery she wore, she chose to gently lower herself to sit on the floor in front of the exiled woman. Though my trust is gone, and a part of me hates you so, I beg of you... Tell me you had no hand in this bloodshed, Icy eyes pleaded to the brunette to bear good news, but the sad haze to them said everything of her faith in a positive outcome.