Passerine

The door creaks open at a slow pace, The Empress does not move from her desk. She stands there unwavering, not even a single movement when she begins to speak.

“So you’ve finally showed up?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. “I guess I can’t run from this forever…” There's a quiet chuckle as the words leave her lips.

The Soldier's grip on the sword tightened, he said no words as he took a step forward. He knew this would be a hard battle. The Empress was not known for being kind to her enemies, her path to the throne was one soaked in blood.

The Mutant Blood Empress finally moves. She has her trident. Her eyes are sad, almost mournful. She points her weapon towards her to be assailant, “You know, I’m tired of running.” a weak smile graces her face.

“But not tired enough to back down.” There she was, The Empress who had toppled hundreds of highbloods before her. She was quick but The Soldier was quicker, a flash of gold had nicked their helmet and made a loud clang. I guess it makes sense that she was able to wield a trident so proficiently. Maybe if she was born as the fuchsia she was supposed to be then this fight would have never have happened.

It was dodge, after dodge. The Soldier was starting to grow tired and a little panicked. He sees now why so many before him had fallen to her hand. Desperately scanning for a fault or a weak point just something- and her trident had ripped itself through his leg. He tries not to make a noise of pain as he stumbles back. An injury like this couldn't keep him down, but damn did it hurt.

The Empress faltered, her eyes were wide as she stared at the blood on her weapon.

“You’re a mutant? But… why? Why work for those who do not-“The sword was plunged through her chest. The Soldier was not one to skip out on an opportunity. There was a quiet pop noise and gasp that ripped from his opponent’s throat.

As he pulled his weapon back pink blood splattered the floor, The Empress was struggling to breathe. The Soldier had realized he missed his target, her heart. She desperately kept her composure, she knew this is not something she would ever heal from. Her eyes no longer held malice, but pity and maybe even a little confusion. Even as her knees hit the floor her eyes stayed on The Soldier.

“You don’t” She gasps “...have to do this.” her breathing was heavy as she spoke. Struggling with her own words, “You don’t need… to serve those” There's a pause “Who will…” She takes another deep breath. “Who will step on you…”

The Soldier stares down at The Empress who was now kneeling before him. Where was her anger? Why wasn’t she furious? Why was she offering her hand out to someone who was here to end her life? His hands shook a little, She was making him uneasy.

“There’s always room in my court..” She reaches towards the troll standing above her. “You can have a better li-” The sword cuts through her throat. Her head and the sword hit the floor. The Soldier takes a step back, He needed out of here. Now.

Without another word, the doors of her chambers slammed against the wall as he fled. A couple of maids were shoved over in the process. The Soldier ran and didn’t even turn back, not once. Not even when he heard the first scream of horror from behind him.

Violinna, The Empress, was dead. That’s all that mattered.

----------------------------------------------------

The sun had begun rising over the trees when Circadia’s alarm went off. She clumsily smacked the top of it, knocking it off the nightstand in the process. They sigh to themself.

“I’ll get it later…” There’s a quiet shuffling of blankets and sheets as indigo blood rolls over in their bed. Her eyes land on a single photo that sits on the window next to the bed. Fingers trace the edge of it carefully, as if they pressed too hard it would shatter.

“Morning Vi, guess I better get out of bed huh?” they murmur into the room. Their eyes linger on the smile of their late matesprit and her heart tightens. She simply grabs the photo and pulls herself from the bed. The room was cold and the bed was so so so inviting, but today was important.

Out of all the rooms in this small cabin the kitchen was the most inviting. Circadia sets the photo on the table as they shuffle toward the counter. The creak of a tea box being opened, water running from a faucet, the clicks of the stove igniting. All staples of a morning routine. Their fingers curl around the handles of two tea cups, a little old and worn from use but a certain pink blood would always carry them around.

Circadia smiles at the thought of it. She always had those gaudy teacups, back then the colors of gold and pink were vibrant. Immediately eye-catching, it’s how they always noticed when she sat them out. They were always for “Important events”, but Circadia’s starting to think she just said that so they could sit together.

They laugh and pull out a wooden box with roses scattered across the branding. Rose Tea, Every single time Vi made her drink out of those damn teacups it was this exact brand. Circadia hated the taste. They find two tea bags and drop them into the cups, It was always her matesprit’s favorite though. So maybe she can deal with it one more time for her.

The kettle whistles loudly, then the water is poured and allowed to steep. The chair’s legs screech against the floor as Circadia moves it to take a seat. Violinna’s photo is adjusted so she can look at it.

Circadia sighs, “Happy Hatching Day, Vi. Today would have been your 52nd sweep…” They try not to cry as the words leave their mouth. They missed her. It had been over a decade and it hurt just as bad as it did when she found out she lost her. Tears well up in their eyes, and their fingers clumsily grip the handle of the teacup as they bring it to their mouth.

The liquid burned their tongue. She would have liked that. The tea tasted so bad and yet it was just the way Violinna loved it, Circadia wanted to gag but she kept it down and continued. The empty cup hit the plate with a quiet clang, sniffling fills the lonely kitchen.

“Gogdammit- Fuck, I miss you Vi. Y-you should be right here and- and-” A knock at the door snaps them out of their thoughts. They use their sleeve to quickly wipe their face and stand up. Who the hell could that be at this time and out here?

She tries to go through lists of trolls as she quietly creeps closer. Nova? No, he died weeks after Violinna. Her death had changed him and killed many in her name. They put their hand to their head, Ophidd was captured and killed in public by highbloods to send a message to the public so it couldn’t be him. Descorde and Laazzlli? Circadia hadn’t heard from either of them in sweeps, gog knows where they are now…

Their fingers graced the doorknob, they’re hesitant. What if someone came all this way to finish the job? They swallow hard and grab a dagger from the wall. The door scrapes against the porch as they push it open.

The troll standing there was tall, he looked tired and a little miserable. Their eyes swept his figure until she met his face. Her breath halted in her throat. She could never forget the blood color of the assassin who took everything from them.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face here.” each word dripped with venom. Today was going to be a lot, wasn’t it?