[Guinivere] Sword of Iron

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[attr="class","ptword"]291 words

[attr="class","ptword"]Guinivere Marcel

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[attr="class","ptpost"]Noctis' poise was every bit the honorable knight he was. If it wasn't for the hard line of his jaw and the harsh set of his eyes, one would never believe him a child of the black Volkovas. Much less their heir. It was a destiny he could not shake, and a chain that weighed him down. No matter how much he desired to be free of it.[break][break]

The hilt of his sword thumped quietly against his side as he walked. Stopping in front of a door, he pulled a key from his clothes and unlocked it. Holding the door open, he stepped aside to allow the heir contestant to pass. "This will be your room for the duration of the contest." Matter-of-factly, he holds out the key for Guinivere Marcel to take. "One servant will be attending to you. If you need anything, ask them." If you asked Noctis, Guinivere Marcel was a mortal he was far from pleased with. She posed a danger to the order and peace he strove to maintain. But if you asked Noctis Volkova, she was a curious thing that they would watch and wait, leaning neither sympathetically nor antagonistically.[break][break]

He stood at the door, not taking a single step into the room. "Is there anything you would need from me now? If not, I will take my leave." he asked with all the respect due to a heir challenger. While he may not agree with her actions, fae law dictated she was well within her rights to do as she did. Thus he had no reason to be antagonistic towards her. She had yet to break any laws. The sudden challenge was a disruption to his schedule, but nothing more. He would act as the Royal Guard Captain should and that was the end of it.

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[attr="class","ptquoo]We are all subject to the fates. But we must act as if we are not, or die of despair.

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[Guinivere Marcel]

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@noctis

598 Words

Music

Outfit

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What died didn't  [break]

Stay Dead

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Guinivere had been trying quite hard not to stare. There was something familiar about him, some sort of lingering reminder of a scene she had been trying to forget. It was colored over with longing, and wishing was the surest recipe for disaster there was. Too many had drowned at the bottom of that well. [break][break]

That was the curse of faerie. It made you want what you couldn't have, or shouldn't have, and sometimes it gave you the tools to get it. She was steps away from the throne, and she was only wondering now if there was a reason no mortal had claimed it before. Would she reign, or would she simply wither? [break][break]

If she wanted to have doubts, there was time and more time when she was a child. Now there was only action. She had to project strength. [break][break]

"Have I caused trouble for you?" she asked, trying to sound apologetic, mostly coming across as blunt. She killed his ward. That was never easy for a guard to handle. "You shouldn't blame yourself. The poison was mortal in nature." And now she was just digging the hole deeper, reminding him of her weaknesses. Would queendom be like this? All stumbling around dignitaries and second-guessing everything? [break][break]

Her question was stupid anyway. Of course she caused trouble for him. She had murdered his king, set the world upside down. And she was being rude now, rubbing salt in the wound, but the fae didn't apologize and their queen certainly didn't.  [break][break]


He was quiet, stern, immaculately put together. She wanted to study it, mimic it. She didn't expect to feel so afraid without Julius to guide her. She didn't expect to feel so broken apart. Before, that space had allowed her to find herself. Now she doubted there was anything left of find. [break][break]

She rolled her shoulders back anyway. She looked him in the eye. She had probably offended him. She couldn't let it distract her from the fact.  [break][break]

"Are you meant to be guarding me? she asked. She didn't ignore the fact that there was only one servant attending to her. It was almost certainly a slight. She couldn't answer that now. Even back in the West Court, she had plenty of servants attending to her. She was ashamed to admit she had grown used to them. He didn't keep any glamoured mortals in the house around her. She doubted he had freed all of them, though. [break][break]

Would this servant be a mortal, too? Sent to remind her of her place. The crown prince seemed languid at best, but his mother was more ambitious. She was hardly out of danger now.  [break][break]

"I don't ask to insult you, but you must appreciate my suspicions," she continued, forcing her voice to be cold, forcing herself to seem dignified. "If I have caused you trouble, this is an appropriate time for revenge. You would surely be rewarded." As long as Ambrose never ordered her murder, he might get the throne yet. And even if he didn't, Maeryn had every reason to kill her. Ambrose might forsake his claim to the throne, but she had other children. She had other options. Ophelia wouldn't be old enough to rule for another decade, but that worked in Maeryn's favor. If her daughter needed a regent, she would be the obvious choice. One servant, one guard she didn't trust-- it wouldn't be enough. [break][break]

She had commands, she had plans, but better than that, she had lies and knives. He didn't. He was unarmed. She would get her answer now or she would get it later. 

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