[color=lightgray][center][h3][color=Burlywood]Duke Gideon Edwards[/color][/h3] [img]https://i.imgur.com/6yZrd18.png[/img][/center] [color=Burlywood]Time:[/color] Evening [color=Burlywood]Location:[/color] Castle Dining Hall [color=Burlywood]Interaction/Mention:[/color] [@TpartywithZombi] Ariella [@Lava Alckon] Drake [@Helo] Leo [@CitrusArms] Stratya [hr] Gideon was as rigid as stone, his body unmoving while the world tilted sideways around him. The voice of the Queen confirmed what he had suspected. And he felt a slow, cold sinking feeling in his chest...Like watching a ship take on too much water on its deck and knowing there was no stopping it. The satisfaction in her eyes, the undercurrent of triumph… It told him everything. And [i]Edin[/i]. Gideon didn’t even look in his direction. He didn’t have to. The sound of the king’s laughter alone was enough to make bile rise in the back of his throat. The duke sat there, surrounded by candlelight and silver, and wondered how a man could witness a woman being dragged into a hall in chains and still laugh. And Alibeth had let him play his role perfectly. He was the jester in a play he didn’t understand, and Alibeth the playwright, who knew her audience would cheer no matter what actor she set on fire. But what gripped Gideon the most wasn’t the Queen’s speech or the King’s idiocy—[i]it was that chain[/i]. That sound. That echo. He could still hear it scraping across the stone walkway of his memory, could still feel the branch digging into his spine, Walter’s hand clutching his, Willow’s shallow breath beside him. The shadow of the hunter rising through the hedge. The weight of knowing they couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t save... To Gideon's dismay, the man sat right by them, and Lord Smithwood was rather quick to start up a conversation. However, the words they shared were drowned out. In their place was Genevieve's voice. He remembered speaking to her not long ago—barely more than a passing conversation, a moment near the gardens where she’d offered him a cup of tea and asked, so gently, if Drake and Ariella were well. Her voice had only held softness. A softness that now twisted in his gut. And now she was in chains just a few feet from him, her feet bare against the marble, her eyes searching the room in blind terror while he sat in silence among those who applauded her ruin. The sickness rose hot in his throat, bitter and shameful. [color=Burlywood][i]What would he think of me right now?[/i][/color] And then Wulfric spoke. His words cut cleaner than any blade, revealing rot that no one wanted named aloud. And as the Prince laid his mother bare before the court, the room shifted again, and as Wulfric’s hand settled so easily on Alibeth’s shoulder, Gideon's eyes remained locked on the boy, because that was what Wulfric was to him until this moment: a boy who had once looked up at him from far below once upon a time. But who stood there now, casting the Queen into her grave with nothing more than words, was someone else entirely. Gideon’s eyes shifted subtly toward Captain Stratya Durmand as her voice broke through the tension. He felt his throat tighten when she spoke of the Queen changing a tablecloth as if that paltry spell justified none of this spectacle. And when she dared to say the woman in chains might hold knowledge worth saving, might be something other than a threat to be extinguished, something fragile inside Gideon stirred. It had been so long since anyone in that room had said anything that sounded like mercy. He didn’t trust hope, not anymore—but he felt something dangerously close to it flicker in his chest as he looked at Stratya and thought: Perhaps the world has not lost all its good yet. Nonetheless, Edin's mind was made up. His pulse hammered as he watched the queen’s dignity fade, and the banquet’s false warmth drain away. As Edin demanded the arrest of his wife and spoke of the future, Gideon could not help the storm of dread twisting in his chest. Not for Alibeth alone, but for what her absence meant. If she had truly cast magic, had truly risked everything to do so, then there had to be a reason… and that reason chilled him more than the spell itself. Alibeth had always been the leash around Edin’s neck, the one that tempered the king’s madness without the rest of the kingdom knowing. But now? With her removed, Edin would be unleashed. [i]A tyrant crowned by holy law and fed by fear. [/i] The mere thought made Gideon’s throat tighten. He stared down at his knuckles, white from how hard he gripped the edge of the table. The embers of grief and rebellion burned bright in his eyes as Gideon rose to his feet, Duke Petit's voice pouring into the dining hall in the background. He seemed deep in thought, and it was unclear whether Duke Edwards had heard much of what Petit had said. However, it wasn't long before Gideon's gaze lowered, and he found that his precious offspring had returned and were lingering in the doorway. Relief should have met him. But it didn’t. Not when he saw her hand, trembling, clutching Drake’s sleeve like it was the only anchor she had left. Her eyes were wide, searching, and for a breathless instant, Gideon could see the child in her again, terrified of a world she could no longer trust. The view of it spelled out one terrible truth: Ariella understood now. She understood what kind of game they were playing and how easily pieces could be swept off the board. But she was braver than he had even taught her to be. Braver than he wanted her to have to be. Gideon approached them all slowly. Whatever storm had passed through him moments ago was carefully tucked away, replaced now by a warmth meant only for his children. He came to a stop beside them, eyes flicking first to Drake with quiet gratitude, then settling on Ariella. [color=Burlywood] "My dove."[/color] he said, voice hushed like a lullaby meant to soothe. Gideon reached out gently, brushing a hand against her back, a reassuring pressure that said more than words. Then, with an easy smile, he spoke to them both. [color=Burlywood]“Are you two ready to go home? I'm rather convinced your mother has been sitting in the carriage this entire time—likely reciting a list of things I did wrong tonight.”[/color] A trace of humor softened the words, but his eyes never left Ariella’s face. They spoke a quieter truth: [i]You’re safe. I’m here. [/i][/color]