[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/f6H9tWo.png[/img] Collab between [@c3p-0h], [@Dark Light], [@PrinceAlexus], & [@The Muse] [sub]Location: Outside the Jail[/sub] [i][h1]Part II[/h1][/i] [hr][/center] [color=goldenrod]“Of course your highness. Anything you request.”[/color] He found himself beginning to bow once again as he politely responded to the princess. Realising he had already done so once before he attempted to save grace by turning the manoeuvre into a deep heavy nod instead. His armor clinked and clattered as he stared at the snow covered floor. He let his eyes linger unfocused on the perfect white powder, disturbed by a single grubby boot print, for a short moment as he took a silent but deep breath, buying a second to regain his thoughts and composure. [i]’He had talked to the princess before, so why was he nervous this time?[/i]’ As his head rose so two did his well worn armor of confidence. It clicked into place as a soft smile formed on his lips. It was nothing too large but just warm enough to be disarming. Wide enough to cover any doubts. He watched and waited to follow her lead, completely and deliberately disregarding the Aurelian guards presence. She didn’t return his smile. Silent and still beneath the falling snow, Amaya held his gaze. She should have felt the weight of the gathered guards’ attention, eyes pressing and scrutinizing. Their silence should’ve been deafening as they watched her. But as Amaya looked at the man smiling at her – [i]smiling,[/i] like she hadn’t glimpsed ghosts behind his eyes just moments ago, like a fire hadn’t been moments away from igniting with a single stray spark – her world seemed to narrow again. She heard the echo of his voice shouting to run. Her lungs filled with iron as blood misted through the winter air. [color=d15e5e]“I thank the Moon that you survived.”[/color] Soft words slipped out of her. Too soft. Too fragile. Too inadequate. They were every fault that had been weighed against Amaya for her entire life. She closed her mouth, tightening her fingers around each other again. [color=d15e5e]“We would’ve died if not for you.”[/color] Amaya felt Elara’s hand in hers, delicate fingers turned rigid and vice-like as they ran. She breathed in the scent of her friend’s perfume as they clung to each other, like they might be ripped apart if they didn’t anchor themselves in place together. Like they might [i]lose[/i] each other. That phantom grip around her hand closed around her throat instead, damming the sudden emotion that ebbed to the surface. Blinking rapidly, Amaya pulled her gaze away from the guard to look down at her hands – just for a moment, she told herself. Something burned behind her eyes. The part of her mind that could never [i]stop[/i] thinking about judgements and implications and scrutiny, railed against her break of composure. [color=d15e5e]“And Sir Abel,”[/color] she finished when she was sure her voice wouldn’t falter. It was still too soft. She could still smell blood. But when she looked back up at the guard, her eyes were clear. [color=d15e5e]“Thank you.”[/color] Daphne considered Sir Abel. Well, there was not much they could do bar send him on his way to the afterlife as he would of liked, he was dead…dead men could not enjoy things. [color=f49ac2]”We can remember him, and carve his name, it’s not much but it's more than many. Least long as legible.”[/color] Daphne fell quiet as she waited, handmaidens, the suspect escaped yes, because no one was able to narrow them down quickly. Her master had tried and taken men after it but only slain the decoy? Was it an attempt at a decoy to aid the escape? Maybe she gave away she knew more than Daphne seemed but info kept you alive. Not knowing really got you killed more than anything else. Least escorting the Priestess had worked out rather well for the tall woman who waited for the Prince to return, or whatever drama Dawnhaven had in spades. At the mention of the deceased guard, of his partner, Aliseth gave a little nod as his jaw tightened. There was a twitch on his lip, a micro expression of emotion filtering through the mask. It was not sorrow nor remorse, but a hint of anger. And his eyes, without changing, changed. As he stood still and at attention looking at her majesty, they were filled with judgment, question, and above all, something else. Blame. It slid like a blade into Amaya’s chest, too sharp for her to feel it, but piercing all the same. Without saying it, without gesturing it, without hinting at it, it was like his thought was psychically pushed out to hover in the cold air before her. On it rode judgement, doubt, frustration. A single unsaid question of disappointment. [i]’Why?’[/i] [color=goldenrod]“You need give no thanks my highness, it was my duty and honour.”[/color] [i]’To die, watch others die, and kill as consequence of your actions.’[/i] [color=goldenrod]“I am glad to see that you are well.”[/color] [i]’Sister gods forbid that the execution order of a beggar should interrupt your day.’[/i] [color=goldenrod]“Yet, regrettably I must inform you of my failings.”[/color] He made extra effort not to look to the faces of anyone else surrounding him. [color=goldenrod]“But the blightborn yet evades us and is still alive and roams freely.”[/color] There was almost a hint of respect or admiration that one might give to a worthy opponent. He had fought off two royal guards, a power wielding princess and evaded capture of an entire town afterall. Then, as if just realising what was out of place, he added. [color=goldenrod]“Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”[/color] His voice fell to but a whisper [color=goldenrod]“[i]my snow dove[/i]”[/color] and then carried on as normal without missing a beat, as if those three words were never just said. Something crawled beneath Amaya’s skin like ice. She stilled in place. [color=goldenrod]“But I can't help but notice your handmaiden is not with you....”[/color] His warm deep tone signaling a concerned question. But Amaya barely heard it. The entire world seemed to fall away, reality narrowing and solidifying to just the short distance between herself and the guard. It was silent — save for those soft words ringing over and over again in her mind. He’d whispered the words so quietly. The guard’s voice had been little more than the brush of wind through dying winter leaves, barely crossing the open air between them. Amaya wasn’t even sure she’d [i]heard[/i] him properly. But those [i]words[/i] rang in her mind, as deafeningly as they’d been just yesterday, an intrusive voice forcing them into her as she’d fled. [i]My snow dove.[/i] [color=d15e5e]“No.”[/color] Amaya’s voice sounded distant to her own ears — like she was underwater. Like she was drowning. Her face was blank as she watched the guard, their gazes locked. She couldn’t move. That aching void around her hand, the space that Elara [i]should’ve filled,[/i] stabbed at her like a festering wound. Amaya tightened her grip, like she’d feel her friend squeezing back. Instead of Elara’s warmth though, there was only the sharp cut of her own nails pressing into her palm. But harsher than the pain was the sudden shot of panic coursing through her. That haunting voice echoed in her mind again — taunting. Malicious. Words circled Amaya like a pack of wild dogs. [i]Maybe my attention has been on the wrong person.[/i] Elara’s face flashed through her mind — full of fear, and rage, and grief. Warm and gentle as a blooming flower. Distant and unreachable as she left Amaya behind. The cold began to solidify at her fingertips, curled into the fabric of her skirts. Expression still neutral, gaze never flinching, Amaya tried to quiet her heart. She tried to breathe. But she could feel her nerves building like an indomitable storm on the horizon, rolling ever closer to shore. [color=d15e5e]“She is not,”[/color] Amaya managed to continue, voice even. She wanted to snatch her words back out of the air the moment they left her lips, that she’d revealed anything at all about where Elara was or wasn’t today. She saw the painful memory of Elara fleeing deeper into the Moon Temple — away from her. But she was suddenly thankful for it. Whatever danger lurked in the shadows, Elara was as safe in the temple — away from [i]her[/i] — as she could be in Dawnhaven. Ice blue eyes studied the guard, like she might find the truth of those [i]words[/i] in his expression alone. Why had he called her that? Had he said it [i]at all,[/i] or was her exhausted mind playing tricks on her? [color=d15e5e]“What progress has been made on the search for the attacker?”[/color] Ever observant, Aliseth’s eyes questioned the princess with a silent concern. They briefly flick towards the clenched empty grip at her side. Whatever accusations lay in her gaze, whatever answers she sought from his face, they weren't there. He held only duty and concern. (and perhaps the briefest twitch of a smirk in the corner of his lips, vanishing before it had ever appeared, or was she just imagining that too.) At the question of progress, the emotion of frustration became clear on his face. [color=goldenrod]“I would not know your highness, I have been removed from all tasks relating to it for the time being. In the commander’s wisdom I have been given ‘low stress’ duties until I can be proven recovered. ”[/color] He let out a soft sigh as his eyes passed the question on over to all the other guards present, adding his own curiosity. [color=goldenrod]“They will likely be able to update you more than I.”[/color] Daphne was unsure what relationship existed between the guard and Princess but her violet eyes did not miss that there was an awkward yet connection none the less and no one had acted to end it abruptly. That was strange but she guessed in such a place the guards were more involved and closer to their charges than the Capital protocol and so it was great but Dawn Haven was a world apart. It was pretty much useless To go by the book here, the book did not cover everything this town had to challenge it. [color=f49ac2]”Still looking Princess, Lord Coswain, the Prince's advisor, also with a champion of Sun temple and so im told tried to run them down, from both guards. They ran down a decoy in the woods, intended or taken advantage of. ”[/color] Daphne added her dark hair braided and bouncing as she moved in a light wind of motion. [color=f49ac2]”Thats most I know, i got sent to Temple, spent the night, and sorted Priestess Katherine her breakfast as they yet to fully get organised. ”[/color] Daphne suppressed the slight blush at that morning, skipping over the rather more personal knowledge of the woman. Somehow the idea that some facts needed not be said. The fact they missed and connected here was just sheer oddity of fate. Changing the subject to another topic she turned to see the other guard and his light duties, he was off the main investigation. Light duties were not always light, just really boring. [color=f49ac2]”So armoury duty? Or did you upset him and you're now on paper work? ”[/color] Daphne said treating the guard better now she classed him a good egg. [color=goldenrod]“Worse… prison duty”[/color] [color=f49ac2]”Tell Sya, drink or lunch on me, as an apology.”[/color] Daphne said with a way of a peace offering. Something to show she meant it. [color=f49ac2]”You good Princess, please let me know if you need anything?”[/color] She asked with a checking glance to her, making sure as her energy right now was…strange? Everything was strange right now so she asked and the taller woman made sure to bend a little to not tower over the Royal quite so much but could not be helped! The Lunarian Royal guard seemed to ignore Daphne’s offer. [color=goldenrod]“It’s terrible to think he is still out there. That murderous blight born. Who knows what danger or scheming he is up to....”[/color] Aliseth let his gaze drift off into the unknown, out into the still darkness beyond the lantern lit snow. [color=goldenrod]“Or what other powers he has.”[/color] [color=goldenrod]“All who were present then should remain in the company of guards. Who knows what he might try next.”[/color] He let a small ominous pause fill the air, enough time for thoughts to take shape before concluding. [color=goldenrod]“If Elara is not sharing your protection, with your word, I will guard her as if she were you.”[/color] Aliseth offered, his dark eyes settling back on Amaya’s with their cold intensity. [color=FA8072]“His Highness ordered a unit to Lady Moonshadow's side last night, Your Highness.”[/color] The brown-eyed guard who still blocked the path to the jail door finally spoke, his voice firm. He’d been silent through the exchange, but not idle, watching everything. [color=FA8072]“They should have reported to her this morning.[/color] Aliseth’s eyes didn't move but his gaze completely changed. There was confusion, judgement and realisation in his questioning look, although he dare not give voice to it. Her handmaiden had been gone that long, and on top of that the prince had been making decisions about her people and interests without her knowledge. It all lead into his true moment to shine, an opportunity to not only test but flex his skills and powers. Sadly for him, no one would ever know the brilliance of his actions, the depths of his details, the careful calculations, the mastery of his craft, few others could weave a story, sow chaos, elicit such emotion without ever saying a single word. [color=goldenrod]"Oh, I see."[/color] He drew the princesses attention to himself with soft words, almost a sadness hidden in them. His eyes search hers deeply once again. His expression -in that moment they shared- expertly crafted to portray his disappointment in her. It was in the subtle tilt of his head, his shifting posture, the tension in his lips, heavy in the creases on his face, but mostly, the eyes. They held the disappointment he felt for the leader of their people, not holding power or knowing the going-ons in and of her own court. That disappointment and resignation clearly weighed on his thoughts, thoughts that she was too weak and had handed them over to the rule of an Aurelian instead. That she was not the princess that they had all hoped for, dreamed of, fought and died for. Not even her own handmaiden followed her, why would a city? He lay his thoughts bare for her and her alone to read. It was a conclusion to a long held fear realised. The final piece of undeniable evidence. In that moment of realization something extinguished in Aliseth's eyes. Was it hope? Perhaps love, loyalty or respect? Whatever it was, it died right before her, because of her. And she would know, then and there, that he was but the first domino. -that was his unspoken story anyway. [color=goldenrod]"That is good, I'm glad she will be safe."[/color] He said softly with a forced smile and a faint nod. He looked more tired now, weaker even. His skin sitting heavy on his face, his weight shifting to one side as he favoured his left foot. [color=goldenrod]"She’s probably safer away from [/color][i]’you’[/i][color=goldenrod] the palace anyway.[/color] His words wove a net around Amaya, threads of doubt and guilt and fear and [i]grief[/i] twisting together in intricate patterns like lace — like a veil. It slipped against her skin, drawing itself along her throat. It began to tighten. Though her expression never changed, her eyes unfocused — drew inward. The world around her blurred, until only the masked truth that the guard laid before her remained in sharp clarity. That she was a disappointment, as her father had always known. That her handmaiden had turned from her duty and refused to follow Amaya any longer. That she was so ineffectual that a [i]foreign prince[/i] had made decisions about Elara’s safety without her. The thought held in her mind — and then fractured. Amaya’s heart stuttered in her chest as a sudden surge of magic lashed against her control. Hidden in the folds of her skirt, Amaya’s frigid hands flinched — they’d turned numb at some point, without her notice. The movement sent an arc of pain up her veins. Finally, Amaya’s eyes refocused. They found the guard again — sallow skin framing the hard flint of his eyes. He seemed so [i]weary[/i] beneath his intensity. It was as if the mere act of speaking with Amaya had drained him, sapped him of his proud strength. The broken shards behind Amaya’s gaze glimmered in the moonlight as her magic surged like stormwater beneath her skin. It froze into creeping, cutting, arctic ice, throwing itself furiously against her control. A slight tightening of her mouth. The deathly still way she held herself. The way the air seemed to grow so slightly colder, the snow just a bit quicker as it fell around them. These were the only indications to the war suddenly waging within her as she looked at the guard who’d saved her life. But beneath the raging tempest, beneath howling winds and a thundering heart, Amaya heard a voice — one she knew better than her own. It was the echo of Elara, voice thick with fear and grief, desperately asking Amaya [i]why[/i] she had been so foolish yesterday — and begging her never to do it again. She saw the pain on her friend’s face. [i]Amaya[/i] had planted it there. The world snapped back into focus, expanding like lungs filling with a gasp of air. Reality existed beyond just Amaya, and her storm, and the guard. Beside her was Squire Daphne of Cadia. Surrounding her were the Aurelian guards who’d seen her unravel and falter time and again today, but hadn’t yet decided that she was more threat than ward. They all watched her — as closely as Sir Abel had for most of her life, until he became a mangled corpse on the ground. The image of the guards littering the ground around her, Lunarian and Aurelian alike, flashed in her mind. Amaya’s hidden hands tightened, the cold lancing up her veins. She tried to focus on the pain. Still, she did not look away from the guard. [color=d15e5e]“The house,”[/color] she corrected softly, her voice faint as fog against the night air as frost ghosted past her lips. It was all she could manage — if she didn’t whisper, she would scream. [color=d15e5e]“I left the palace behind in the capital”[/color] Along with its high marble walls, and watchful shadows. She held his gaze — took in his sunken face and his steady eyes — as the sound of iron sliding into place and wood crunching against snow signaled the opening of the prison door.