[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/3hbl8fH.png[/img][hr][hr][/center] [center][color=lightgray][h3]* * *[/h3][/color][/center] [color=lightgray]Lunaris’ festivals were the one time that Katherine had felt the capital truly come alive. Despite the harsh weather that always seemed to batter them, despite the stress of impending doom that had all but blanketed them, and even despite her current mission, she found a singular moment to enjoy the revelry. The sound of music was what she first noticed; flutes and drums, violins and bells echoed throughout the plaza. Mixed in with it was the dull hum of a lively crowd, with periodic laughter audible breaking its monotony. As Katherine’s eyes swept across the scene, lanterns hung from vendor tents drifted by in the periphery. The bright dyes in the fabric still managed to break through in spite of the dull moonlight, catching her gaze for a moment before it was drawn back to the task before her. Katherine stood in the crowd, though she couldn’t feel her feet on the ground. The faces around her blurred as if smeared by time, the faceless revelers wrapped in laughter and noise. For a moment she savoured the experience, lost in the sights, sounds and smells that surrounded her. And then a familiar head of long, dark hair caught her gaze. Amaya. The very one that was assigned to Katherine’s watchful eye. The one she’d followed from the palace, past unknowing guards and into the heart of the celebrations. A thread of guilt twisted in her chest and she found her head bowing knowingly towards the princess. She already knew how this night played out. [center][h3]* * *[/h3][/center] The throne room stretched out before her, the cold, silver-blue light that glimmered on the polished floor exaggerating the ice that she felt in her heart. The silence was oppressive. At the base of the throne’s steps, Katherine stood trembling, her knuckles white as she squeezed her hands tight. She felt the ache of her ribs, how they protested with each breath that she drew in, threatening to pierce the very lungs they protected. Her pulse pounded in her ears, a wild rush, and a fleeting affirmation that there was a beating heart within her, vulnerable and flawed. A heart that she wasn’t sure would survive the betrayal that loomed over her. On the throne, the King sat perfectly still. His piercing gaze was fixed on her, one that seemed to stare directly into her soul. His face was ever-impassive, a mask forged by power and one that revealed absolutely nothing. Katherine suspected that he already knew what she was about to say. This was most certainly a test, and one that in both the eyes of the King and her father, she had already failed. An agent of espionage was not supposed to hide the truth from the very ones who commanded them. She could feel her father’s presence just a half pace behind her, a presence that radiated resentment and rage. It flowed through her from the grip he held around the back of her neck, one of absolute control. She’d embarrassed him before the highest power in the kingdom. The punishment she’d already received would only be the beginning. Katherine opened her mouth. Her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, resisting the words that were battling their way up from deep within—words that, once uttered, would destroy something pure. Her loyalty. Her conscience. The growing sliver of silent trust with Amaya that had developed through wordless understanding. The King’s eyebrows drew together a fraction—a signal of growing impatience—while her father remained a rigid shadow just over her shoulder, a silent manifestation of the punishment that would follow if she chose silence instead of loyalty. For a moment, Katherine wished the stones beneath her would crack and swallow her, or that the heavens would bring down a thunderous chaos to interrupt the moment. Anything—anything—to spare her the agony of delivering the betrayal that was expected of her. But there was no refuge. There was only the oppressive silence, the piercing stare, and the words that were slowly forcing their way past her lips. The silence trembled as Katherine drew in a shaky breath — just enough to enable her voice. [color=19CACA]“P-princess Amaya… left.”[/color] Three words fell from her lips, each one tasting like poison. Each one weighed on her soul like an anvil dragging her to the depths of the ocean. She felt her father’s grip on her neck tighten. More. He wanted more. Katherine drew a shaky breath in, her jaw quivering as tears blurred her vision. [color=19CACA]“T-the festival… y-your highness.”[/color] [center][h3]* * *[/h3][/center] Katherine’s eyes fluttered open from beneath the blanket, being met with total darkness. The cold wood of her chamber floor pressed unforgivingly against her shoulder, grounding her in the present even as her mind reeled with echoes of the past. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest—not from exertion, but from the lingering weight of the dream, the taste of old betrayal still bitter in her mouth. She pushed herself upright slowly, letting the blanket around her fall to the floor. The dream still clung to her like a second skin however. That oppressive throne room, the weight of two gazes, and the sound of her own voice offering up Amaya like a lamb to the butcher. Just three words. Princess Amaya left. Three words that had haunted her for years. The memory wasn’t new. She’d tried her best to forget it, to bury it in the past and move on. And she’d almost succeeded, right up until Amaya had walked into the temple. The princess’ appearance had ripped away the scab of time far too soon and let the guilt bleed everywhere. It was never just the confession that haunted her, but the fact that her younger self had done nothing to resist. Quiet and submissive. But at nineteen, under her father’s thumb, with bruises she hadn’t dared show and eyes that had learned to stay lowered — what choice had there really been? Katherine had also known nothing of the consequences of her actions. It was only Amaya’s absence at any gatherings that had hinted towards anything being wrong. [color=19CACA]“Amaya… I’m sorry.”[/color] She choked on the words, planting her forehead onto her knees. [color=19CACA]“I should have lied for you… Goddess knows I’m good enough at it,”[/color] Katherine shook her head, looking up to the ceiling and letting her head hang back in remorse, [color=19CACA]“I wasn’t strong enough.”[/color] With slow and deliberate movements, Katherine rose to her feet. Her hands moved in habitual independence, straightening her robes as she’d done a hundred times before and wiping away the lines of tears that she pretended didn’t exist. Piece by piece, she assembled herself back into the shape of the High Priestess. Even if that shape was battered and bruised. She didn’t speak as she stepped out of her chambers and back into the main hall, nor did she acknowledge the small gathering just outside. Dawnhaven awaited, indifferent to the tempest in her chest. And perhaps, in the clamor of the town, she could find a moment’s peace — or at least a distraction sharp enough to keep the past at bay.[/color]