"Stay your sword, Genevieve!"
"I'm sorry Your Majesty, but I cannot."
Adelia clicked her teeth in disapproval, red hot pricks scorching her eyes as she fought back tears.
'As if the disgusting fleas staining my palace flooring have even the slightest right to witness such a grand event as my sorrow!' She thought to herself in anger.
And the worst of all of them, snearing from the front of the crowd!
Her husband.
His Majesty, Prince Consort of the Kingdom of Erin, Second Prince of the Empire of Cartusia, Nathaniel Carmellio Estarte de Boullierre.
And, she presumed, soon to be announced King. Or perhaps Grand Duke, if Erin is to be absorbed into Cartusia.
"Genevieve, please." she pleaded quietly so only he could hear.
The man stood solidly, confidently even, despite the situation. Strands of his silky jet black hair swayed from an imaginary breeze that couldn't possibly have made its way into the throne room. His sword, contrary to his flowing locks, was as still as the surface of a lake on a clear day, the tip as sharp and steady as his crimson eyes locked on the scene in front of him.
The sight of him standing there calmed her. There was no way out of this situation - she knew it in her heart - but somehow with him there with her, she wasn't afraid. But she couldn't let her selfishness be the downfall of yet another innocent person!
Genevieve Mercia - Her Personal Knight, and the only person still left by her side after all these years. Nathaniel had slowly but surely made sure to seperate Adelia from everyone else she had ever known, loved or respected. Perhaps the only reason Genevieve had been permitted to live was because anyone would be mad not to at least attempt to bring him over to their side.
Taking in his families footsteps at the age of 17, he had led the Grand Subjugation to victory against the monsters. After his tour was over, he passed over his Duchy to a distant cousin, and took his place at her side for a short time as part of the Princesses' Guard. But he was very soon plunged into war again, as he once again led the Grand Army to victory against Vistos. He was not only an outstanding swordsman, but an accomplished military commander.
For sure, after that, Nathaniel must have tried to bring him to his side, but on her Father's deathbed, the King had requested him to protect his daughter, and the fool had dutifully listened.
But he didn't deserve this. There must be a hundred knights behind Nathaniel. Of the Royal Guard no less.
Adelia ground her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. She decided to take a different approach.
"Genevieve Mercia" she commanded quietly, "I, the Queen of Erin, and the Lady to Whom you swore an Oath, hereby declare that I have no further use for your services. You are simply a disgrace to the Knighthood. How could you possibly think to protect me? Stay your sword, and remove yourself from this room."
Of course there was no way she believed any of what she had just said, but to dismiss someone who has taken a Knight's Oath, it is mandatory to give sufficient cause for dismissal. Genevieve had always been the perfect picture of a Knight - perhaps he needed her to do this "by the book".
Though she could not see his face from her seated position on her throne, she noticed something stir in the man. Yes! Her heart flooded with relief. If he simply steps away now, she was sure he would be granted clemency from that scum husband of hers.
A light chuckle ahead of her sent her once light heart plummeting.
"I cannot agree with your words more, My Lady."
His voice was laced with bitterness.
"But as I am no longer your Knight, I will remain here as nothing more than myself. Your most loyal of subjects."
....
Before Adelia had the chance to let out a cry of objection, a voice she hated more than anything in the world sounded out loudly, reaching all ears in the room.
"It is a pity, Sir Knight. The nation will mourn your decision to stand beside this wicked woman. But no matter. What needs to be done, will be done. We have tarried here for far too long. "
Nathaniel's eyes displayed glee and satisfaction as he puffed out his chest, his chin lifted high in proclamation.
"I, Nathaniel de Boullierre, order the execution of this despotic Queen. No longer shall our Kingdom be plagued by the horrors this Witch has brought us!"
A dreary cheer sounded out across the room and the crowd surged forward.
And then there was blood.
-----
She winced as Nathaniel grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it harshly. His breath against her ear sent dull chills coursing through her.
Nathaniel whispered quietly. Coaxingly. But with a hint of seething anger even she couldn't mistake.
"Are you miserable my Queen? See what has become of your darling Knight."
He pushed her head forward and her knees, long unable to take her weight, buckled.
The tears she had done so well to hold back overflowed as she landed next to the corpse. An indescribable pain broke through her dulled senses as her eyes trailed across his bloodied and tattered shirt, his eyes glass-like and misted. All her memories of him was with his sword at his waist, always two steps behind her left, or leaning against a nearby wall while she sat outside for tea. Apart from the most brief of moments, his eyes had always seemed vacant and unfocused, as if he were a million miles away.
But today, he was truly magnificient. Where his sword went, body after body dropped before him. Blood, not his own, splattered the floors, his clothes - it went everywhere. But through it all his movements looked purposeful but carefree. The men who faced him looked like chicks barely having learned to walk. His eyes were clear and still, even as people lunged towards him from all directions. She could only imagine what it must have been like to face him - merely a glint of those flashing, jewel-like eyes as they turned in your direction, before the cold steel of his blade shortly followed.
In the end though, he had met the same fate as all the others. And once again, it was all her fault.
Genevieve hadn't even broken a sweat - he had paused for one short moment to brush his hair from his forehead - but outside of that, he simply moved from one enemy to another as they attempted to approach. But Nathaniel had obviously realised this could not continue. The number of his men had dropped by at least a third already.
A lone arrow from the other side of the room arched gracefully above the massacre in the throne room. She had seen the most brief flash of fear in Genevieve's eyes as he swerved backwards and sprinted up the short steps to the throne to cover her body. The arrow had pierced through his back, into his heart. After the impact, his footsteps faltered and he landed on one knee in front of Adelia. His sword clattered to the floor.
Adelia hurriedly leaned forwards to help him, but he used his other hand to push her back into her seat. He looked up into her eyes, and time seemed to slow to a standstill.
The tears had almost flowed out then.
"Why?"
Adelia had barely managed the words out over the painful lump forming in her throat.
"How could you do this!"
But Genevieve had never given her the answer. His black eyelashes fluttered closed, and his body slumped forwards.
- - - -
All of those that had died.
Their only crimes had been absolute loyalty to the crown and her family. Now here she is, a despised Queen of a kingdom in tatters, it's people starving, the land sucked dry after years of corruption and neglect. She had thought that perhaps she could save just one person. But she couldn't even do that. He should never have needed to die. There were so many that didn't need to die.
Perhaps the worst mistake she had made was to have tried to survive.
"Kill me." she pleaded, her voice broken and hoarse. Maybe this will end all the death and suffering.
"Please"
Perhaps the only mercy her husband had ever shown her was to immediately grant her final wish.