#interlude cordonia

[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six: 2/10/19- Interlude 16: Cordonia

warnings: violence, character death 

Alex stood beside Anton in the darkness waiting for Eamon's signal. He was still in mild disbelief that this whole plan was working; that the group of nobles inside the Ramsford Estate were so gullible that they truly believed that Micah's distraction was the extent of what the Seven Devils had planned. He still had doubts that he'd so easily be able to bait Drake, that he'd so easily be able to finally have Claire to himself again. He was still in mild disbelief that this Lady Kiara could be trusted to carry out the most integral part of the plan. “What's in it for her, though?” He'd asked Anton. “Why would she just throw away her chance at becoming Queen? Why not just marry the Prince?”

Anton had explained that Kiara's family had been feeling slighted by the crown for decades. He told him about King Constantine's repeated empty promises to sponsor the Castelsarreillan Arts Program, the repeated empty promises to pass pieces of legislature that Kiara's parents had fought for on behalf of their people. “So, you see, Kiara is a black swan, a spider in disguise. She'll gain his trust, his love, and he won't see her coming. And she's not throwing away her chance at being Queen. If she lives, she'll rule by my side as my Queen. We can trust her. She is still highly motivated.” He adjusted his glasses habitually. “I know how to keep my people motivated. Kiara wants power, you want your girl, Erika, Micah and Eamon want revenge, Will wants to print the truth...Everyone wants something. And I know what everyone wants. Trust me, Alex, the plan will work. By the end of the night everyone will have their prize. The Walkers and Rhyses will be dead, Claire will be yours and the Crown will be mine.

Eamon's signal caught their eyes from the tiny rectangular basement window. Three short flashes of light from one of the guards' torches. Eamon had blown the grate from the window, freed Micah, and the two of them had dispatched the two guards in the room before taking care of any others in the hallway. They were to leave Erika and Will behind so they wouldn't get in their way. Alex and Anton made their way to a side entrance that the Krass men opened from the inside. The timing had been perfect, and the two men entered the Great Hall just as the third of the suitors had been announced. Eamon silently took out the few guards while Alex slid up behind Claire, clamping a hand over her mouth and holding his knife to her throat. “Don't struggle, sweetie,” he whispered in her ear as she wriggled in his grasp. “Feel that?” He gritted his teeth and hissed as he pressed the point of the knife into her throat. “That goes right through your jugular if you don't do exactly what I say, got it, sweetie?” Claire whimpered and nodded, tears spilling from her eyes as Anton sidled up behind Kiara, placed a kiss to the back of her neck, and assumed the same position that Alex had taken with Claire. The four of them moved into the ballroom as Eamon blew the final charge to bring down the chandelier. Constantine Rhys. Check.

In the fray Alex caught sight of that filthy stable hand, Drake, and felt a sneer pulling ta his face. “Here he comes, your fucking knight in shining armor. You know he's going to die, right Sweetie? He's going to die for you and you're going to watch.” He pressed the knife deeper into her skin and she cried out- from pain or fear he didn't know nor did he care; it pleased him just the same. On the far side of the room he saw the man that he knew to be Bastien apprehending Micah. Knew that jackass would get himself caught, he thought, before looking to his side and watching Kiara bury her blade between the Prince's ribs. Liam Rhys. Check. Anton had slumped on the ground in a growing pool of blood, but Alex didn't care. Just here for my own revenge anyway, he thought, returning his eyes forward.

He had just enough time to curse himself for taking his eyes off of Drake before the man's hand had clamped around Alex's wrist, wrenching the blade away from Claire's throat, freeing her. “No! Fuck!” he heard himself gasp- he'd doubted Micah. He'd doubted Kiara and Erika. He couldn't believe that he was the one who would fail. His mind went blank as Drake ripped his arm behind his body at an angle that destroyed his shoulder, feeling every tendon pop and tear. He was forced to drop his knife. He could feel white hot hate rolling off of the man on top of him, and an animalistic instinct to protect Claire. Love. He didn't understand it but he knew that that's what it was. This idiot loves her and he's going to die for it. Just like me. He saw Eamon lining up his shot behind Drake as Drake took Alex's own knife and used it to slit his throat, finishing it. End of the line.

As the life drained out of him, Alex felt something like peace come over him. He knew, deep down, that he would never get through his revenge on Claire Scot-free; knew he'd end up in prison or dead, and from experience he was glad that this was the route things had taken. Drake stood, leaving Alex to die behind him as he made his way closer to Claire. With his last breath on his lips, Alex saw Eamon fire, heard Claire scream. He closed his eyes as another bullet lodged in Drake's back, as Bastien emptied one into Eamon's skull. Alex's lips curled upwards as Claire fell to the ground. Drake Walker. Check. Alex Miltner left the world with a sick smile on his face and the sounds of screaming in his ears.  

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[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six 2/3/19 - Interlude 15: Cordonia

Scowling, Micah sat between Will and Erika, the three of them cuffed to hard, cold metal chairs. The dank smell, dim lighting and rough, stone walls around them told him that they had been taken to what used to be the dungeon of the estate back in the medieval days. His eyes scanned along the wall in front of him. They fell upon a small window near the ceiling with thick wrought iron bars clapped across it, confirming their location. Perfect. Right where we're supposed to be. He looked to hos left at Will and saw that the reporter turned rebel was nervously spinning the wedding band on his finger. Shit, Micah thought. He's gonna talk. He's regretting this, thinking about his family. I knew it should have been my father instead of him. He tapped his fingers against the arm rest of his chair, as much as he could with how tightly he was restrained, and the sound caught Will's attention. Micah fixed him with a steely glare, full of warning of what would happen should he do something stupid. Like talk. Will shakily nodded and swallowed the confession Micah knew he was thinking of making, closing his eyes.

Micah turned next to his right, to where Erika had slumped against the arm rest of her seat. She was breathing heavily and uneasily through her nose, a strained wince distorting her face. That beautiful face. The face of a princess. A better choice than Anton. Micah seethed as his eyes fell to the bandage around her right bicep; to the scarlet stain seeping though the stark white gauze. She'd been shot in the arm to force her to drop her gun, and the agonizing sound that she made pulled the trigger on Micah's own gun as he shot back at Derrins- his former King's Guard mate- hitting him in the leg and taking him down. Derrins had been brought upstairs to have his wound cleaned, stitched and properly taken care of. For Erika, they'd simply poured alcohol on her arm and wrapped it up. No stitches. No medication. Sweat was beading on her forehead and every few breaths she let out a groan, but her color wasn't bad and she wasn't unconscious, so that would have to be enough for now. Just another hour or so...

The crackle of a radio interrupted his thoughts and snapped his attention to the two guards in the room with them. Aikens and Hawthorne. Aikens grabbed his radio from his belt and held it to his ear to hear the voice on the other end. “Dining room is clear. Everyone's been moved to the ball room. T-minus 43 minutes until the suitors are announced. Final sweep of grand hall is underway. Prisoner status?”

Aikens looked right at Micah, right into him, a satisfied grin on his face. “Manderly's patched up, all three are restrained, none of them are talking much...Should I change that?” Aikens sneered at Micah before he released the button on his radio to speak with his prisoner and not his direct report. “Because I know who I would start with.” He kept his eyes on Micah and closed his fingers tightly around Erika's bandaged arm, pressing his thumb to where he knew her bullet wound was. She shrieked and let out a moan that made Micah's breathing go ragged. He turned to Erika and struggled against his cuffs, reaching for her. Aikens laughed coldly as he let go of her arm. “Don't like that, do ya, kid?” he spoke into Micah's face, using the nickname all of the Guard had formerly used for Bastien's young assistant. The radio crackled back to life and the Kings Guard Captain's voice came through telling Aikens to stand down, that he'd get them talking later. Aikens growled but responded with “Copy,” and walked back to stand next to Hawthorne.

“Take it easy, Aikens,” the older, more experienced Hawthorne said, laying his hand on the younger guard's shoulder. “Wwe just have to keep these assholes in this room for the next two hours, and then we'll get all the answers that we need, yeah?” Aikens nodded in resignation and Hawthorne clapped him on the shoulder again. He knew that Aikens was incensed over the fact that Micah had betrayed them all- had betrayed Bastien; every member of the King's Guard respected their Captain, and Aikens was taking it almost personally that Micah had thrown away the mutual respect that Bastien had for all of his men.

Micah and Aikens spent the next 41 ½ minutes locked in a staring match, angry, bitter, hateful thoughts raging like storms inside both of their minds as Erika moaned softly and Will huffed and sniffed. Towards the end of those 41 ½ minutes, Micah felt a slow sneer spread across his face. His eyes flicked again to the thick, black bars on the window, to where he knew Alex had strapped one of two devices just the day before. The sneer grew as he thought of where the other was strapped- above the chandelier in the ballroom. He heard the distinct sound of shouting coming from outside the window, then the unmistakable sound of an unconscious body hitting the ground, and footsteps, growing louder as they crunched in the gravel near the window. “Hey, Aikens.” The man glanced at Micah while Hawthorne kept his gun trained at the window. “You're gonna be sorry that you put your hands on her,” he cokced his head towards Erika. “You're all gonna be sorry.” Before Aikens could respond, the bars flew inward and glass shattered with the force of the explosion. Micah grinned wider as his father's face appeared in the window and another BOOM from upstairs ripped through the air.  

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[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six : 11/18/18 Interlude 7- Cordonia

Liam paced his study and checked his watch. 9:28 pm. He tapped his hand against his thigh and loosened the top button of his shirt. Bastien should be here any minute; Liam had asked him to escort a certain guest. He wished the topic at hand was a lighter one, wished he was meeting her to tell her something happier. But her safety was at risk, because his was, and she needed to know. He needed to tell her that he’d do whatever he could to keep her safe. But Liam knew more than most that even palace security wasn’t fail proof. He sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His thoughts went to his mother, to Drake’s father. He’d been trying to stay strong and supportive for Claire and Drake’s sake, trying to remain stoic like his father, the King. But truthfully these recent whispers of threats were bringing back old anxieties, and the crown prince was shaken up. As the clock on the wall chimed half past the hour, two short knocks rapped on the door. He crossed his study in three long strides and turned the door knob, pulling it open. Bastien greeted him with a nod. “Your highness,” he said, before moving aside to reveal Liam’s guest, a sigh of relief almost inaudible as she crossed the threshold into his study. Liam nodded a thanks to Bastien, sharing a look, and then closed the door turning to face her.

She looked radiant, her long raven hair was plaited in a thick braid draped over her shoulder, her caramel eyes seeming to glow. She was wearing a black top and a pair of dark gray pants that hugged her curves, and a smile that wrinkled her nose. “Good evening, my prince,” she said, stepping into his arms and pressing her lips to his. He smiled against them, releasing some of the stress he'd been feeling into his kiss. Her mouth opened slightly and he exhaled through his nose as her tongue flicked out to trace his lips. He tightened his hold around her, one hand on her waist, the other higher up on her back, pressing her to him. She broke the kiss and met his eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight, your highness?”

“Kiara,” he breathed her name like he was under a spell. “Please, call me Liam,” he asked of her. She nodded. He'd asked her numerous times- they'd known each other so long. But she'd always seemed interested in Drake, so he'd not pursued anything with her. It turned out to be a big misunderstanding, Kiara admitting that she always felt something for the prince, that she had for years, but figured that he'd end up marrying Olivia anyway, and didn't want to get her heart broken by falling for him. She'd allowed herself to go after Drake, knowing that he didn't feel anything for her aside from physical attraction. “Kiara,” he said again, and she locked on to his sky blue eyes, saw the touch of fear there.

She lifted her hands to his face, gently holding either side of it. “What is it, Liam? Tell me what's wrong.” She placed a soft kiss to his nose and he let out a breath. She let her hands fall to his strong shoulders, fingers running up and down the taught fabric of his dress shirt.

“There's been a development...a security concern. It appears as though there is a...rebel faction here in Cordonia, a new one, and they're...they're putting things in motion. As of now, I know that Claire Berkley is a target, and that I am as well. Now, the tabloids have of course speculated,” he gave her a weak smile- weak, like she made him feel. “Correctly speculated, that we've been spending time together...” his smile faltered, turned to a frown, brows furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. “And that makes you a target, too. I am so, so sorry, Ki,” he leaned his forehead to hers. “I will do anything I can to keep you safe, but I just...needed you to know...”

Kiara pulled him to her in an embrace. “We will be alright, my prince,” he nuzzled into her neck and she brought one hand up to stroke his wavy blonde hair. Her breath had hitched nervously when he told her that he was aware of a plan. Her heart skipped momentarily when he told her that he knew he was a target. But she didn't let him see those things register. “The Royal Guard will keep us safe, I know it.” she said, breathing and heartbeat returning to normal.

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