breathless time can take no prisoners

I

t never fails to amaze just how quickly and suddenly an event can be turned on its head. One moment everyone was making merry, indulging in good food and drink and song, then the next it was madness. The smell of blood still lingers in the air. Few have wanted to stay after the king was nearly butchered with all of Rionnach as the witness, though some lingering stragglers still remain while the guards and servants are left to clean up the mess.

During these past weeks she’s spent in Rionnach, she could sense the rift but never realized the severity of it, never realized that there are wolves who wish to see the king dead… He is a far cry from an ideal leader for he sits safely in his castle, far separated from the common wolf, but he appears fair and affable if a bit soft, smiling kindly at his subjects and treating his queen with a warmth and affection she’d never in her life seen a man show to his wife… However, experience has taught her that appearances are not to be trusted and that her intuition is the only thing she can truly rely on. It tells her there is something she is missing.

Wolves do not kill kings for no reason. They do it either for their own selfish causes or because they are desperate for reform. She remembers her mother slaying her grandfather in honorable combat, to usurp him and lead their state towards glory and enlightenment, to make an effort to fix everything that was wrong with their nation. History repeated itself when Nyx faced her own father on that fateful autumn night. He was not a king but likewise he had to be destroyed for the greater good.

Would killing this king be for the greater good as well? Somehow, Nyx has her doubts. If he is killed, it will more than likely plunge Rionnach into chaos and launch a war of succession. The king still has his council and many loyal subjects. There are so many wolves who are content and happy under his rule and want nothing more than peace.

Rionnach isn’t like her homeland, a comparatively small state where all its citizens were strong and capable, where they all recognized the divine rule of the Orpheids and their right to overthrow their predecessors. If her intuition serves her well, there is no law in Rionnach permitting such a thing under any circumstances. This land is too large and populous for an ousting to be anything but controversial, especially if it were to occur in such a violent manner that would only make the populace worry for the more vulnerable amongst them.

Perhaps the prince should stay out of it, as a foreigner with little stake in this, who may not stay to see summer. But what if she does? What if she decides to call this her new home? It would be wrong to stay apathetic then and to not fight for what is right. The Imperial Army seems strong and noble and she longs for something to belong to and for a little bit more of an earthly purpose… but would it be a worthy exchange to trade her freedom for a shot at glory and camaraderie?

A shadowed brow furrows beneath the skull she wears as a mask. What heavy things to think about on what was meant to be a fun night. She thinks she will leave and spend what remains of the night calling upon Athena for guidance and wisdom, but first, she wishes to bid farewell to the one she came here to see, if Rhiannon hasn’t departed already. Nyx hopes she has not, if only because of her yearning.

Her scent brings Nyx back to the garden, where they had met earlier tonight… but there is no one here, aside from a pair of guards that watch her like hawks. The garden is a disaster — trampled grass, flowers ripped out and strewn across the ground, masques scattered about… a black one lying in the grass catches her eye. That’s Rhiannon’s masque.

The tall woman strides towards the discarded masque and stops to lean down to it. With a tense expression, she touches the ruffled black feathers delicately with a paw. What happened? The once beautiful, ornate crow-like masque has been trampled without a care and left in the dirt. She lowers her nose down to it, taking in traces of Rhiannon’s scent along with that of another wolf.

The signs of a struggle are all here, striking her with such an awful feeling. Has Rhiannon been attacked? With a clenched jaw, Nyx growls out a curse in her native tongue. She was a fool, letting herself be distracted by frivolities and a meaningless bloodbath while something terrible was happening just outside in the garden. She should have been there. She could have done something.

Still hunched over, she glances at the surrounding scene. If this was the fault of marauders like the ones that were apprehended at the ball, there’d be much more bloodshed but there is none. Did… the guards do this? Why?

“Something troubling you?”

With raised hackles, she shoots a glare from over the shoulder towards the voice. One of the guards stands at ready, perturbed by her silent seething. Nyx pauses to breathe deeply and compose herself. She lets go of a sigh and says, “Nothing. I was just leaving.” With that, she shakes out her raven pelt before looking contemplatively at Rhiannon’s lost masque. It is damaged but... she cannot leave it abandoned and forgotten here.

She bends down to pick it up, handling it with care. It is time to go. She only hopes Rhiannon is alive and unharmed, wherever she is.

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck