Chapter Text
Tally wakes to the feeling of fingers sliding through her hair, scratching at her scalp. She releases a content sigh, arching her body underneath the warm covers of the bed, and blinks her eyes open.
“Good morning, my love.” In the windowless room, there is only the last vestiges of a dying fire to illuminate the area, but Sarah’s sweet smile is still visible, her affectionate gaze trained on Tally. Her hair is unruly, likely from both sleep and the copious amounts of sex the night prior. The fingers entangled in Tally’s hair still scratch gently at Tally’s scalp.
A delicious shiver rolls down Tally’s spine at the feeling, and she begins to shift closer to Sarah on the bed, seeking out her warmth. “Is it actually morning?” She mumbles sleepily, easily returning Sarah’s smile. “It’s hard to tell what time of day it is down here.” Not only that, but she and Sarah had fallen asleep twice before, each time waking up for a few more rounds of sex before both falling back to sleep.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Sarah admits with a laugh.
Tally grins in response, eyes trailing over Sarah’s face, her beautiful, striking features. Something catches in her chest– an awestruck reminder that she is now married to this woman before her– and she is powerless to do anything but lean forward and kiss her.
Sarah’s hand slides free from Tally’s hair, wrapping itself around Tally’s waist the moment their lips meet. Tally is dragged forward across the bed as the kiss deepens, and she eagerly wraps her arm around Sarah’s warm waist as well, their bare bodies now pressed against one another.
Though Tally had quickly lost count of the amount of times she and Sarah have already had sex the previous night, it does not take long for her to begin feeling that all too familiar ache between her legs, not with Sarah’s tongue in her mouth, and the feeling of Sarah’s warm, naked breasts rubbing against her own.
Sarah’s hand on Tally’s back slides downward, squeezing her ass, before going lower, to the back of her thigh. She grips it tightly, urging Tally’s leg to slide up and over her hip, but the muscles in Tally’s leg suddenly ache fiercely in protest, and she isn’t able to stop the gasp of pain that leaves her.
Sarah jerks away in an instant, looking at Tally with a worried expression on her face. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Tally is quick to reassure her. She finds Sarah’s hand under the covers, wrapping her fingers around Sarah’s. “Yes, I’m fine, I just…”
Tally gives an experimental stretch of her legs. Her groan of pain that comes from the accompanying soreness radiating throughout her entire lower body is distorted by the slightly delirious laugh that escapes her as well. “Gods above.” She says breathily, flopping onto her back, but rolling her head to the side to keep the puzzled, and still slightly worried, Sarah in view. “What did you do to me last night? I’ve come out of combat training less sore than this.”
The worried expression on Sarah’s face disappears, only to be replaced by a smug grin. An equally smug laugh escapes her, and she props herself up on her elbow, shifting forward so that she is leaning over Tally. “I assure you, darling.” Sarah’s voice is low, her hand sliding over Tally’s stomach to gently trace nonsensical patterns over her hip with her fingertips. “It wasn’t anything you hadn’t been absolutely begging me for, I can promise you that.”
Tally bites her bottom lip in a futile attempt to tame her smile. She rolls onto her side again, lifting a hand to smooth some of Sarah’s unruly hair, tucking it behind a pointed ear. “Are you going to make me beg for it again?”
Sarah’s smile widens. A mischievous glint appears in her eyes, and the next thing Tally knows, she is flat on her back. Sarah rolls on top of her, hips settling neatly between Tally’s legs. “As much as I enjoy hearing you beg for me, I’ll be nice this morning.”
Tally instinctively tilts her head to the side as Sarah lowers her head, pressing her lips to the warm skin of Tally’s neck. She begins to leave a trail of kisses down the side of Tally’s neck, leading to her collarbone, each one slightly more open-mouthed than the last. Her hands trace down Tally’s sides to the outsides of her thighs, fingertips ghosting over Tally’s skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
The ache between Tally’s thighs begins to grow, liquid heat unspooling into her stomach. She impatiently rolls her hips upwards into Sarah’s, and feels more than hears Sarah’s low chuckle in response.
“Insatiable,” Sarah mumbles into her skin between kisses. She pulls back after a split second, that mischievous glint still visible in her eyes. “Don’t worry.” She says as she begins to move backward down the bed, hands trailing carefully down the sides of Tally’s body. “I’ll be gentle.”
Sarah disappears under the covers. Tally closes her eyes, a soft moan escaping her as she feels lips on her stomach, slowly working their way southward. Two warm hands place themselves on either side of Tally’s thighs, urging them further apart, but just as Sarah’s teeth graze over Tally’s hipbone, something outside the door triggers her Knowing, and a frustrated groan leaves her.
Sarah’s head pops back up from under the covers. “What’s wrong?” She asks, looking up at Tally, brows dipped together in a frown. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”
“I do,” Tally assures her. “Trust me, I do. That’s not what that was about.”
“Then what was–”
Sarah isn’t able to finish posing her question. A loud, rapid series of knocks comes from their bedroom door, and this time, it is Sarah that the annoyed groan comes from. Her head drops to Tally’s stomach. “You cannot be serious right now.”
“It’s your sister.”
Sarah huffs, lifting her head again. “Just ignore her.” She whispers, as though fearful Elizabeth would be able to hear her. “I’m sure she’ll go away soon.”
“Sarah!” Elizabeth’s annoyed voice is muffled by the thick wooden door, punctuated by another series of sharp knocks. “C’mon, open the door! I know you’re in there!”
“Gods give me strength,” Sarah mutters under her breath. She slips out from under the covers, and Tally shamelessly ogles her as she grabs her shirt that had been haphazardly tossed to the floor the night before. Sarah yanks it on and hastily throws a few of the buttons together, though they are almost comically mismatched.
“I’m busy,” Sarah hisses as she opens the door, not even bothering to properly greet her sister, or ask her what she wants.
“Yes, yes.” Though Tally cannot see Elizabeth from where she still lies in the bed, she can hear her sarcasm-laden voice clear as day. “I’m sure you and Tally are extremely busy having lots of ‘just-married’ sex, but have you somehow forgotten everything else that has been going on? Do you even know what time of day it is right now?”
“Erm…well, no, but–”
“You missed dinner,” Elizabeth says flatly. “We’d sent out scouts early this morning to investigate Solitude and to keep an eye on the temple and we’ve been receiving reports from them all day. We need to discuss our next move, but we can’t do that without the two of you present.”
“Fine,” Sarah relents with a long, clearly annoyed sigh. She drags a hand through her hair, tossing a glance back toward Tally on the bed. “You can tell everyone to meet us in the War Room. We’ll go over the reports and discuss our next steps from there.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth says with a relieved sigh. “But you better not take too long, because if I have to come back here and get you again, I’m not going to bother with knocking again.”
Sarah closes the door, muttering something incoherent under her breath. She quickly divests herself of her shirt, wasting no time in crawling back into the warm bed with Tally.
“Is that our honeymoon over?” Tally asks teasingly.
Sarah loops an arm around Tally’s waist, pulling her flush to her once more. “I’ll take you on a proper honeymoon after this.” She promises. “Somewhere warm, with no one to interrupt us.”
“No one to interrupt us?” Tally repeats with a laugh. “That’ll be the day, won’t it?”
Sarah laughs in response, splaying a hand against Tally’s shoulder to gently urge her onto her back again. Tally’s eyebrows lift as Sarah climbs on top of her, slowly inching her way backward on the bed and underneath the covers once more.
“I thought we had to get ready for the meeting in the War Room.”
“Don’t worry,” Sarah’s wicked grin sends a thrill down Tally’s spine, and a rush of wet heat to her cunt. “I’ll be quick.”
The walk from the guard barracks up to the Royal Office takes Guard Captain Bridey only half the time it normally would. Her hand rests on the hilt of her sword the entire time, flexing and unflexing her grip. When she reaches the Royal Office, she knocks sharply, just the once, and enters the quarters before even waiting for an answer.
The low-voiced conversation of High King Silver and his advisor, Lady Brandt, immediately ceases the moment Bridey enters the room. Brandt’s face turns sour at the interruption, pursing her lips before opening her mouth to speak, but Silver silences her with a simple wave of his hand. He leans back in his chair behind the extravagantly carved mahogany desk, steepling his fingers together as his dark, unsettling gaze lands on Bridey now in his office.
“Guard Captain,” The King’s voice is cool, even, yet there is an underlying smarminess to it that Bridey could never quite get past. “I presume you’re interrupting me for a good reason?”
“Yes.” Bridey’s reply is swift, and curt. “These men you have allowed into the palace…there is concern among the guards over them. Concerns, that I myself, frankly share.”
A ghost of a smile flickers over Silver’s face at Bridey’s words, almost as if he is amused by this. “And what is it about them that concerns you so?”
“You said they were a group of highly-trained mages to help round out the Royal Guard in the wake of the late Queen’s assassination,” Bridey says. “But there is something off about them all. The brown robes they wear, the strange masks…I spoke with Izadora about them, and even she said that something about them unsettles her. She said that their magic doesn’t feel natural, almost as if it came from somewhere else.”
“Is there a point to this, Guard Captain?” Silver asks with a tired sigh.
“Yes,” Bridey says, bristling. “You allowed a large group of highly trained, unvetted mages into the castle and upper district of the city, and I fear that they are not just mages, Your Highness. I think they are members of the Dragon Cult.”
“The Dragon Cult?” Silver’s face twists into a condescending smile, voice oozing with arrogance. “I thought you better, Guard Captain, than to believe the falsehoods spread by the Knight-Commander and her wayward army of Blades.”
“Your Majesty, I assure you–”
“Who was it that killed High Queen Petra?” Silver interrupts before Bridey can begin to defend herself.
Bridey shifts her weight back and forth between her two feet uncomfortably. “I–”
“And remind me, Guard Captain, who was it who turned her back to Queen Petra, repeatedly? Who was it who indoctrinated the young Princess Abigail and convinced her to abdicate from the throne, leaving the Bellweather line without an heir for the first time in centuries?”
“I–”
“It was the Knight-Commander,” Silver’s voice is hard, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. Shadows dance over his face, cast there by the tall candle sitting on the edge of his desk. “She is the one responsible for the Queen’s death, she is the only threat here. Not this fictitious Dragon Cult that she and her Blades have been spreading rumors of, trying to instill fear in the common folk and create relevancy for themselves once again.”
“But High Queen Petra believed the Knight-Commander about the cult, even with all their differences. Why are you–”
“The late Queen was once a Blade herself, was she not?” Silver reminds Bridey. “If not a full Blade, she still trained with them, and was once friends with them. It only makes sense that such a thing, even with as brilliant as she was, would cloud her mind to the truth. There was the threat of a dragon, but the Mages Guild, as I am sure you and everyone else in Skyrim have heard by now, have killed it. The only threat to Skyrim that remains is the Knight-Commander herself. Her temple has been searched, but it seems that after her escape from Fort Greymoor, they have all gone into hiding. Rest assured, they will be found, and dealt with.”
“And how, exactly, did the Knight-Commander escape custody?” Bridey straightens, pulling her hands behind her back as she narrows her good eye at Silver. “There were no guards left alive in the entire fort, and the ones sent to investigate say the watchtowers were burnt to the ground.”
“Likely the work of the Dragonborn,” Silver says with a smarmy smile. “Another threat that will need to be taken care of, which is exactly why I have employed the help of the mages you now see here at the palace. The power of the Dragonborn is not one to be taken lightly, but it also cannot be allowed to go unchecked, especially when it lies in league with someone like that of the Knight-Commander.”
“But where did you even find them? Are they a mercenary band? Did they train with the Guild? As your Guard Captain, I still must insist that we further investigate them before allowing them full access to the palace grounds and–”
“Guard Captain,” Silver interrupts Bridey yet again, causing her to gnash her teeth together in silent frustration. “Who are you loyal to?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your loyalty,” Silver repeats slowly. “Where does it lie?”
“My loyalty lies where it has always lied, Your Majesty,” Bridey says stiffly. “With the Kingdom of Skyrim.”
“And?” Silver presses.
“And…” Bridey hesitates. Her shoulders slump with a quiet sigh. “And to the Stormveil Throne.”
“The throne.” Silver says flatly. “Which I now sit upon. So your concern, while noted, is completely unnecessary. The mages I have brought into the castle are of no concern, and rather than worrying about them, you should instead focus your attention on making sure that what happened with the late Queen Petra does not happen again. Have I made myself clear, Guard Captain?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Bridey barely waits for a dismissal before abruptly turning heel, and exiting the Royal Office. Her hand remains glued to the hilt of her sword as she marches down the hallways of the palace, heading from Silver’s office to the alchemy labs, where she knows Izadora, the court mage, would likely be tucked away in.
Sure enough, Bridey finds her bent over an alchemy table, peering closely into an alembic containing a dark red fluid. Izadora looks up at the sound of the door opening, and quickly straightens as Bridey enters the room.
“Well?”
“He says they are nothing more than highly trained mages, though he refused to say where from.” Bridey says. She leans back against a table, crossing her arms over her chest. “And he insists that the Dragon Cult is nothing more than a rumor created by the Knight-Commander in an attempt to bring relevancy back to the Blades. But I was in that interrogation room with her the night the Dragonborn was poisoned here at the palace; the prisoner was given a truth potion, and he admitted to being a member of the cult.”
“Which means?”
“Which means Silver is either an ignorant fool,” Bridey says. “Or he’s complicit. And I intend to find out which.”
Though Tally understands why she is present in the War Room with the commanding officers of both Blades chapters, and the High Queen herself, she still cannot help but to feel out of place in the meeting. She sits awkwardly between Sarah and Elizabeth, trying to ignore the tension in the room as the former of the twins argues loudly with Petra from across the table.
“We are not asking the Sisterhood for help!”
“Need I remind you, Knight-Commander,” Petra’s voice is icy. “That were it not for the Sisterhood, neither you nor I would be standing here right now, arguing about this. I would have been killed within my own castle, and you would have met your fate at the sharp end of the headsman’s ax.”
“Nicte may have her uses, but we do not need to rely on her for everything,” Sarah grits out. Her hands grip the edge of the table tightly, knuckles white from the force. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of things ourselves.”
“It would be much easier, and much faster, to simply invoke the Black Sacrament, and have the Sisterhood assassinate Silver. We cannot allow him to remain on the throne any longer than necessary.”
“If I may,” Knight-Commander Thorne, ever the voice of reason, interrupts from her position at the table before Sarah can spit out another retort. Emry sits next to her, looking just as uncomfortable as Tally feels, dark eyes bouncing back and forth between Sarah and the Queen. “Removing Silver from the throne is not our only issue. The scouts that reported back from the capital earlier today say that he has invited the cult into the palace, as well as the upper district. They don’t seem to be doing anything besides patrolling the area, but simply assassinating Silver would not be enough. We would have to purge the entire castle and upper district of cultists.”
“Not to mention his advisor is also in league with the cult,” Elizabeth says. “Who knows how many other members of his court and inner circle are working for them?”
“He could have any number of the Royal Guard on his side as well,” Anacostia says with a shrug. “There is no telling of how deep the corruption runs. It wouldn’t do for us to only take out Silver and restore Petra to the throne without rooting out the rest of the cult. They would only simply attempt to kill you again, and from inside the castle, could do so rather easily.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?” If Petra’s thinned lips and flared nostrils were anything to go by, she seems annoyed by the fact that she has been beaten, but verbally, she digresses, though she crosses her arms tightly over her chest as she does so. “Lay siege to my castle? The moment Silver catches wind of what is happening, he would triple the guard around him, and go into hiding. There are any number of places within the castle that would make it impossible for us to get to him.”
“Then we take him out first,” Elizabeth says bluntly, as if it is as simple as she is suggesting. “You were snuck out through the tunnels, correct? We could sneak a few of us into the castle first and take Silver out before the bulk of our forces make it to the upper district. After he is dead, those inside can work on clearing out the castle, while those outside work their way in.”
“Is Stormveil Palace not massive?” Emry’s gentle voice is heard as she speaks for the first time since entering the room, nearly identical in cadence and rhythm to that of her mother’s. Her dark brows have drawn together in confusion. “It could take ages to find the King in such a large place. How will we ensure that he is found and killed before our forces reach the upper district?”
“The throne room would be the easiest place to take him out in,” Sarah’s fingers drum against the top of the table, brow furrowed deep in thought. “It’s large and open enough for a fight, and if a private audience were to be requested, no one would be present in the room with him, save a few guards. It would be simple enough to quickly eliminate them all.”
Petra snorts indignantly from across the table. “You’re going to request a private audience with Silver? You’ll be executed on the spot.”
“Not me,” Sarah shakes her head. A smile works its way over her face as she looks at Petra, one that leads Tally to believe that Petra is not going to like whatever it is that next comes out of Sarah’s mouth. “Abigail.”
Preparations begin the next morning at first light. Once told of the plan, Abigail agrees immediately, and though Petra is clearly not fond of it, she does not give voice to her objections, simply readying herself for battle alongside everyone else.
Tally and Sarah help one another into their armor, and after, Sarah sits on the floor by the bed, leaning back against Tally’s legs as Tally works Sarah’s thick hair into a long braid, intertwining the blue and gold ribbons from their wedding into it. Her own hair is in a ponytail, held up by the ribbons of her own.
Sarah sits silently on the floor, motionless except for the occasional brush of her thumb from where her hand lies on Bandit’s giant head as he rests at her side. Tally senses an uneasiness in the room, can see it in the tense way Sarah is holding herself, and so when she finishes with Sarah’s braid, she gently rests a hand on her shoulder.
“Sarah.”
Sarah startles at the contact before turning around, twisting in place so that she can look up at Tally sitting on the bed behind her. “Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
Sarah looks away, staring at the wall opposite her. A muscle jumps in her jaw as she remains silent.
“Are you worried about the upcoming battle?”
“I am…” Sarah fiddles with the bracers of her armor for a few moments before she sighs, shoulders slumping. “I dislike the fact we will not be at each other’s side during the fight. I know you are more than capable of defending yourself, but I still worry. Certainly far more than is necessary.” Sarah says with a humorless laugh.
“Do you want to be by my side?” Tally asks softly. “I am sure Thorne would have no qualms switching places with you, if you asked.”
For several long moments, Sarah looks as if she is half-tempted to say yes. Her hand comes up to cover Tally’s that is resting on her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Her gaze lifts to meet Tally’s again, blue eyes bright and full of longing. “No.” Sarah finally says, though she sounds as if the word has physically pained her. “Thorne has far more experience leading an army in battle than I, and they will need your strength in advancing toward the castle. On top of everything else, I wish to be the one to put an end to Silver’s life.”
Sarah’s brow dips together then, concern flashing through her eyes as she looks up at Tally, studying her. “Unless…do you wish for me to be by your side?” Sarah pushes herself to her knees before Tally has the opportunity to answer. “I am not a soldier, Tally.” She says quietly. Her eyes are soft, full of reverence and determination. “But ask me to go to war for you, and I will lead that entire godsdamned army myself.”
Tally’s fingers thread through Sarah’s. She tugs her close, and Sarah easily allows it, moving forward to fit between Tally’s legs. Their foreheads rest against one another, noses brushing, breath intermingling.
“Not for me, Sarah,” Tally’s words are hardly more than a whisper, featherlight in the way they shake the room. “With me.”
Tally pulls back. She lifts a hand to cup Sarah’s cheek, tracing the sharp angle of her cheekbone with her thumb. “Go with your sister and the others.” Tally says. “Kill Silver. Then find your way outside to me. We won’t be apart for long.”
Sarah squeezes her eyes shut. She turns her head, pressing a kiss to the inside of Tally’s palm. “Okay.” A shaky sigh escapes her. “But after that, I will not leave your side.” She says with a determined promise. “Not even the gods themselves could keep me away.”
Sarah, Elizabeth, and Abigail, along with a small number of Thorne’s Blades led by their Knight-Lieutenant head out first. There is a quiet amount of chatter to be heard among the small group, mostly among the members of Thorne’s Blades, and so Sarah quickly tunes them all out. Her thoughts drift as she fiddles with Samhain’s reins held tightly between her fingers, doing her best not to worry. Logically, she knows she has no real reason to; their plan is sound, and at this point, Tally could probably protect herself better than Sarah could, but when it came to Tally, emotion had a tendency to win out over logic.
She tries instead to focus on her task at hand. Once they drew close enough to Solitude, Abigail would split away from the group, heading into the city by herself, while the rest of them would head toward the entrance to the tunnels. Raelle, one of the few people who actually knew their way in and out of the tunnels, had given them a crudely drawn map of the way they needed to go, and once inside the castle, Sarah and Elizabeth would make their way to the throne room, where Abigail would be having her private audience with Silver, while Emry would lead the rest of the Blades throughout the castle, wiping it clean of cultists.
It isn’t an overly complicated plan, but Sarah ruminates on it, trying to do her best to distract herself from worrying about Tally. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work, and she soon finds her thoughts drifting back to right before she and the others had left, and the goodbye she had shared with Tally. Sarah had never been the biggest fan of public displays of affection, but at this point, everyone was now aware of the fact that they were married, and she would be damned if she wasn’t going to kiss Tally goodbye before they both headed into danger.
I love you, Tally had whispered. Her voice, those words, had briefly soothed Sarah’s worries, just as they always did, and for a few moments, Sarah had been able to pretend that everything would go according to plan, and that everyone would be perfectly safe.
I love you, too, Sarah had whispered back before kissing Tally again. I will see you soon.
“Sarah? Sarah.”
Sarah starts, dragged back to the present by the sound of her sister’s voice. She blinks, looking to her right to find Elizabeth riding next to her, watching her. “Sorry. Were you speaking to me?”
A smile flickers over Elizabeth’s face. “What’s gotten into you? You seem more stoic than usual.” She clicks her tongue, urging her horse to pick up the pace. “Is it the plan that worries you? Or is it Tally?”
“Can I say both?”
“Sure,” Elizabeth says with a one-shoulder shrug and a lopsided grin. “But I won’t believe you.” When Sarah neither laughs or cracks even the smallest of smiles, Elizabeth’s grin disappears. “Hey.” She leans over in her saddle toward Sarah. “It’s okay. I mean, I’m worried, too. About the plan, about Tally, about Raelle…but there’s no use in–”
Elizabeth hisses sharply in pain. She goes ramrod straight in her saddle, eyes clamped shut, bringing a hand up to rub furiously at her temple.
“Elizabeth?” The spike of worry that shoots through Sarah is now for her sister, but Elizabeth quickly waves her off, even as a pained grimace still contorts her face.
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth manages, though her voice sounds strained. She peels her eyes open, dropping her hand from her head. “Just a damned stress headache from everything that’s happened the last couple days.” She glances over at Sarah, sighing when she catches sight of the worried expression on her face. “Seriously, stop. You’re going to worry yourself right into an early grave and leave poor Tally a widow.”
“You don’t need to worry about the Dragonborn.” Emry’s gentle voice cautiously interrupts the two sisters. Sarah glances to her left to find the young Knight-Lieutenant riding next to her. She sits tall in her armor, riding with the ease and confidence of someone who has ridden into battle before. “My mother swore an oath to her, remember?” Emry gives Sarah a small, yet kind smile. “She will keep your wife safe.”
Wife.
The word sends Sarah’s heart racing.
When she had been prisoner at Fort Greymoor, forced to her knees in front of the chopping block, and certain she had been going to die, she had grieved the fact that she never had the chance to ask Tally to marry her. And even though now she had, now that they were actually married, it still wasn’t enough.
Before meeting Tally, Sarah had never once given thought to life outside of the Blades. It was a safe life, a life with both Elizabeth and Anacostia by her side, and Sarah hadn’t ever considered anything else for her.
But now with Tally, Sarah wants more. Not just a life spent by Tally’s side, but a peaceful life, a life spent together in a proper home, where no one could bother them and nothing was expected or needed of them. A home in the countryside, Sarah thinks, as she recalls the conversation she had overheard Tally sharing with her sisters long ago, before the two of them had ever confessed their love for one another. A home with a garden, a library, and a lake nearby. And dogs– Tally could wish for a dozen dogs to fill their home and Sarah would say yes to each and every one of them.
She would build that damn house with her own two hands if she had to.
The halls of the Thieves Guild are, as always, dank and cold. Byron’s muscles ache with the cold as he walks down the narrow, dark corridors, heading toward the exit that will lead him out into the city of Riften. Even in the winter, the air of Riften was rife with cold wind that blew in off the lake, and the smell of stagnant water in the canals, murky and encrusted with barnacles.
As he passes through the corridors, however, Byron notices a small, flickering light in the alcove where Cassandra always sits. He pokes his head in, only intending to say hi before continuing on, but pauses when he catches sight of the old woman. Her book is turned upside down on her lap as she sits hunched over in her chair, hands folded in her lap, and head bowed.
“Cass?”
Cassandra does not move for several moments before finally lifting her head. She leans back in her chair once more, and picks up her book as if nothing has happened.
“Cass, you alright?” Byron steps further into the alcove, squinting at her. “Were you praying just then?”
“Yes.” Cassandra does not even bother to look at him as she speaks.
“What for?” The members of the Guild were often used to seeing strange behavior from the old woman, but Byron does not think he has ever once remembered seeing her pray.
“For the Knight-Commander.”
“The Knight-Commander?” Byron frowns. “And what does she need prayer for, exactly?”
“Because.” Cassandra idly turns a page in her book. “She is going to die tonight.”
Abigail makes sure to hold her head high, and to keep her shoulders straight, as she is led by the very guardsmen that once protected her, down the halls of the castle that she grew up in. Just as they had hoped, when the heavy doors to the throne room are hefted open, there is only a small number of the royal guard scattered around the large room.
Silver himself sits on the throne, silver and obsidian crown resting upon his head. He watches Abigail enter the room with a fascinated curiosity, waiting to speak until the large doors to the room slam shut behind her.
“Abigail.” There is a glint in Silver’s eyes, hands twitching in his lap. He looks curious and guarded all at once as he continues to stare down at the former princess now standing in his hall. “I must admit, when my guards told me you were here at the castle, requesting an audience with me, I was surprised. What is it that brings you here?”
Abigail casts a surreptitious glance around the room. One guard on either side of the throne. Two more by the door. Three cult members around the perimeter of the room. If everything went to plan, Sarah and Elizabeth would be here soon, and it wouldn’t be too difficult of a fight.
Abigail turns back to Silver, squaring her shoulders some more as she pulls her hands behind her back. “I come with news, my King.” Abigail does her best to keep the disgust of saying Silver’s title, a title he has schemed and murdered for, out of her mouth. “Regarding Knight-Commander Alder.”