Laid to Rest (Day 2- Bloody Hands)
I stared down at my hands, scowling at them as I sat in the small, quiet cell. No matter how much I washed them, no matter how hard I scrubbed, my own skin would begin to peel before the blood soaking them would come off. Every time I closed my eyes, the scene replayed in my head. My blade slicing into her gut, the blood soaking her outfit, and the absolute helplessness I felt as I was dragged away and locked into a cell.
Helplessness.
It was such a new sensation.
I hated it.
I hated it as I watched my sword go into the stomach of my best friend, I hated it as I was forced to watch her be dragged away from me, I hated it as they found my foil sword tucked neatly away, and I hated it as I could not even speak to defend myself.
I slammed my fist into the wall next to me, feeling it shake as pebbles pelted my hand.
“Ser Dorie.”
I turned my head sharply towards the owner of the voice, giving the advisor a cold look. He smiled at me, his head dipping to the point where his bald spot was shining almost directly into my eyes.
“‘Tis truly a shame, what happened during your spar.” He started, a low chuckle rumbling through his voice. I slowly began to rise, wincing at my sore knee.
“You know, they've removed your sword from her highness. It appeared to be recently polished and even sharpened. You must have really had it out for the princess,” he paused, his grin growing. “Especially for you to not even recognize your own handiwork.”
My blood ran cold at his words- my own handiwork? I furrowed my brows before remembering a sword sent in for repairs. The detailing on it had needed a touch up, and the blade itself was worn near completely dull. When restored, it resembled my own so closely… I had taken extra care with it, assuming it had belonged to a fan of mine.
“Oh, are you finally putting it together now?”
The advisor's gloating tone brought me crashing back to reality, my eyes snapping onto his.
“You really were never the brightest of her retainers.” his smile was wider now, almost unnaturally so. “However, that made you perfect to take care of some… loose ends, shall we call them? What with your little princess being bold enough to sway her parents’ opinions on what color the sky is- well, she had to be dealt with. You, my dear, just happened to be our method.” He stepped closer to the bars of my cell, his grin nearly splitting his face in half. “Nothing personal, you underst-”
His gloating was caught off by my hands clanging against the steel between us, denting it to hold the shape of my palms. As my vision began to go red, I could feel the blood I couldn't get rid of running down the bars as I pulled at them, bending the metal enough to stick my arm through and grab the advisor by the throat, pulling him close enough to me that I could see my lavender eyes reflected in his own golden ones. His face paled as I lifted him of the ground, gritting my teeth as he clawed at my hand.
“K-kill me, then.” His grin persisted, though now heavily pained and gasping. “Prove me right. Prove that you're a bloodthirsty monster who slaughtered its own princess.”
I let out a silent yell as I brought my arm back before throwing the advisor, taking a shaky breath as his spine slammed against the bars across from mine. The guards rushed into the block near immediately, flooding in and putting themselves between the advisor and myself.
“She- she’s mad! Truly mad!” He coughed, his voice trembling as I heard his feet scrape against the floor. “That’s no mere woman- this demon is a threat to all of us! We should-!”
“We should what, sir Cyreas?” The dry voice pulled all attention towards the opposite end of the hall- where Medora stood, leaning lightly on Storm, the slouching woman to her right. I felt so many emotions hit my heart as I looked at her. I was relieved at her still being alive, though there was rage, sorrow, and unadulterated fear as my eyes lowered to her heavily-bandaged stomach. Many of the guards averted their eyes as she strode forwards in little more than her undergarments, lightly swaying as she approached my cell.
“Surely you aren’t proposing that we kill our mightiest paladin for a simple training accident?” Her voice remained dry as she looked towards me, though her emerald eyes softened as she searched my face, squinting slightly. “Especially one that you had orchestrated.” Her voice quickly gained an edge to it, hidden underneath her casual tone.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Then beg.” She said simply, before snapping her fingers. Within seconds, Storm had crossed the room and had her daggers held to the advisor’s throat, primed to cut him down where he stood. Medora turned towards him, her eyes narrowing. “Surely you don’t think I’m that dense, sir Cyreas? To simply believe one of my most trusted protectors would turn against me in an instant? To believe that her eyes could ever lie to me? Unlike, of course, your silver tongue that you so proudly boast of during dinners with the staff.” She held her hand towards one of the guards, who simply handed her the sword in their hand without pause.
“This woman is a demon, your highness. She attempted to-!” The advisor was silenced by the edge of Storm’s dagger pressing into the skin of his throat, cutting off his words in a strangled noise. She gave him a warning glare, her amber eyes nearly glowing in the light.
“You have said more than enough. Be thankful that I don’t have Storm cut your tongue from your mouth.” She paused for a moment before bringing a hand to her ear, pulling out a small, plastic device. “Hydra, if you would please turn off the recorder? I believe we have more than enough evidence against this… nuisance.”
The same guard that had handed over their sword moved towards one of the empty cells, reaching through the bars to pull a slightly larger device from underneath the bed. The advisor’s face went nearly white as the guard pulled their helmet off, revealing a gray-skinned orc woman.
“As I was saying, I take offense to how dull you must think I am.” Medora studied the sword in her hand as she spoke, stepping towards the advisor. “As soon as they would let me, I looked over the evidence and had our dear Ser Hydra check the foil for fingerprints. Of course, we found Dorie’s,” she paused, turning her attention from the blade to the advisor, “but we also found yours. Now, tell me sir Cyreas, what reason had you to handle Ser Dorie’s blade?”
“I simply handed it to her-”
“No, you didn’t,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Insult my intelligence again and I’ll have to discipline you myself. Now, what exactly had you done with Ser Dorie’s sword, hm?”
The advisor was silent, his breathing becoming shallow as he avoided the eyes of everyone around him. He let out a slight whimper as Medora’s blade tapped his chin, tilting it towards her.
“Let me ask you this, then. Who else are you working with?”
The advisor’s breath caught as she asked, his entire torso shaking for a moment before his breathing resumed as deep, fast breaths. “Nobody. This was my plan, and mine alone. I created and executed it by myself.”
Medora clicked her tongue, dropping her sword and turning away for a moment before quickly thrusting her sword towards the advisor, hitting him between the legs. He let out a scream as her blade pierced the skin, pushing against Storm’s blades as he curled up.
“Come, Storm. Let the guards put him away.” She said, motioning towards the silent woman with her head. Storm nodded, sheathing her blades and taking her place at Medora’s side, supporting her as they both turned to me.
“Let’s get you home.”