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tendertenebrosity · 4 years

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Ruler and Empress part 13. Masterpost here.

For the next week, Lian went about their duties as best they could. They pushed it to the back of their mind - the elven ambassador and his baffling, tantalising, useless offer of help, along with their guilt over the palace servants. Nothing could be done; it did nobody any good to think of it. Not when the Empress’ eyes were on Lian at all times.

For Lian had erred, gravely; and it would be a long time before the silken ropes of Elisandre’s control over them had any give at all.

Their every moment seemed to be scheduled now, and they were grateful if they had a few minutes of work that wasn’t overseen by one of the empress’ staff. They were still required at meetings and functions; but increasingly only to sign documents. Sometimes they didn’t speak a single word. They coped. They had no choice. Time slid by, and if Lian thought about it, it was almost upsetting how easy it was to keep going like this. They tried not to think about it.

Night had fallen, and it had been a very long day, tedious and tiring enough to overcome even the way their mind turned itself over and over in the only silence and solitude they had anymore. So it was that Lian was deeply, dreamlessly asleep when their bedroom door crashed open, hitting the wall with a thud and making the objects on their dressing table rattle.

They jolted upright, hands grasping at their bedsheets, wincing and blinking in the light of the lamp that was suddenly being brandished in their face. Their heart was beating like a rabbit’s in their chest as they shaded their eyes and discerned the shape of one of their guards.

“Get up.”

Lian blinked spots from their vision, waiting for their eyesight to adjust. A guard? They usually stayed outside of Lian’s bedroom, since the wedding. Lian hadn’t expected that boundary to be respected forever, but...

The guard continued to hold the lantern up, shining the light critically over Lian.

They pulled their nightclothes down to cover their bare legs and drew themself up, doing their best to project cool, aloof dignity. “What,” they said, their voice hardly trembling at all, “Is the meaning of this?”

“The Empress wants you,” the guard said curtly.

Well, I could have figured that out myself, Lian thought. Who else? They took a deep breath, determined not to panic before they knew what had happened. “Very well,” they said. “If you will give me a moment of privacy, I will dress and - ”

“No,” the guard said. “She wants you now. Come on.” He jerked his head towards the door.

Lian ran their lower lip over their teeth. They knew there was no point in protesting this treatment, so rather than wasting more words they eased themself off the bed, trying to keep distance between them and the guard. They grabbed a discarded wrap from their dresser and pulled it around their shoulders.

There was no time for anything else, apparently; the guard put a hand on the back of Lian’s shoulder and shoved them towards the door.

The halls of the palace were dark. Lian rubbed sleep from their eyes and wondered what time it was - it felt like the early hours of the morning, but they couldn’t be sure. They looked down at their toes, bare against the polished wood of the floor. “Do you know why Her Majesty the empress wants to see me?” they asked the guard as they walked.

He glanced at them, his expression unreadable in the lamplight. “Doubtless you’ll find out.”

Lian sighed. “What time is it?”

The guard was silent, and Lian let out a little huff of breath. Surely she didn’t tell you not to give me the time. Well, fine.

As they approached a stairwell, Lian’s steps slowed. They could hear sounds drifting up from the lower levels of the palace - raised voices, commotion. They anticipated that the guard would lead them down, and started to angle their strides in that direction, worry starting to turn over and over in the pit of their stomach. There was too much noise for this late at night. This was more than a game the Empress was playing.

But the guard caught Lian rudely by the elbow, pulling them roughly to a stop, and jerked his head towards the stairs that led up. Which meant that, regardless of what was happening downstairs, Lian was going to the Empress’ private chambers.

Lian reminded themself of their resolution not to panic before they knew the facts. Once the guard had let go of their arm, they straightened their shoulders, resettled the wrap where the guard had pulled it out of place, and began to climb the stairs. They quickened the pace a little, and lifted their chin as if the guard wasn’t even there just a step behind them, as if they had chosen to climb these stairs in the middle of the night in bare feet and their thin nightclothes.

Eventually they came to a stop in front of the door to the Empress’ chambers. Before Lian could even catch their breath the door was opening and they had no choice but to step through it alone, heart pounding.

The little sitting room was better lit than the hallways, but it was still clear the Empress hadn’t been up for very long. The room was half-lit, deep velvety shadows and the glitter of gold and glass within them, the dining table a dim, bare shape off to the side. Over near the window and the lounge, one delicate side table bore several candles; another bore an angular, faceted glass decanter of water and a pair of untouched glass goblets.

Empress Elisandre had her back to the door, standing beside the window with the curtains pulled wide. She, too, was dressed for sleeping, her shift an elegant construction of silk and lace, her hair gathered up at the back of her neck and falling to her waist in a heavy golden rope. Lian shivered as a gust of wind came through the opened window, cold and smelling strongly of something Lian noticed but couldn’t spare time to identify. It swept past them, and died away as the door clicked shut behind them. They pulled their wrap closer around their shoulders instinctively.

They swallowed, trying to work moisture into their mouth.

“Your majesty. Y-you - you sent for me?” they said softly, deferentially.

The Empress turned her head, the curve of her cheek coming into view, candlelight shining on it and giving her the illusion of warmth. Then she spoke, her voice low and somehow flat.

“Come here.”

Lian stepped forward, obediently. The carpet was soft under their toes as they went to join the empress at the window. “Is… is there something that you need of me?” they ventured as they approached. “I’m sure I…”

Elisandre watched them approach, her only other movement to take hold of a fold of curtain to stop it fluttering. She spoke over Lian, as if she hadn’t even heard them. “Tell me, Ruler, what do you see?”

That flatness was still there, grating against Lian’s nerves. Lian’s eyes darted, from her face, to her pale graceful hand holding the curtain still, to the window. The wind hit their face, pushing their hair aside, and bringing with it the smell of… smoke? Loath as they were to turn their back to her, they looked out from the window obediently.

This part of the palace was high enough that they could see over the gardens, over the walls and past some of the highest buildings in the city. Lian knew that, in the sunlight and a clear day, you could see the sea glittering silver and turquoise through the buildings.

They didn’t see that this time. They saw a red-orange glow, reflecting off the clouds and painting the night sky with lurid, unsettling greys and reds.

And in place of the shining sea… flickers of bright flame.

“Is that the docks?” Lian exclaimed. Forgetting themself, they leaned out the window, craning to see better. “They’re - they’re on fire!”

“Are they?” Elisandre asked, her flat voice curling up in brutal sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed. Yes, the docks. And every ship in the western side of the harbour.” She moved beside Lian, her hand drifting out languidly to indicate to her right. “And also the eastern gate and its bridge, although you can’t see that from here.”

Lian gaped for a moment, uselessly, their fingers curling on the windowsill. Then they stumbled back, clutched their wrap closer about their shoulders and plunged for the door on the other side of the room, skirting the lounge and the decorative tables.

They would be needed. Parts of the city had burned before - not that long ago, when the city had been taken - but this looked worse even than that. Lian no longer questioned why they had been dragged out of bed, they questioned why they’d been taken here. Every minute was precious! They knew - or hoped - that everybody important had been woken before them and was already heading down there. Bucket chains. Bands of people to pull survivors out of the water, the dock officials have hopefully… who is in charge there now? I don’t even know. Oh gods, there’ll be so many wounded, can we house them in the temple - no, they took the temple - what about here? Where are my shoes?

“Stay right where you are, Lian.”

Lian stumbled. They had almost reached the door, only another few feet between them and it.

“But..!” they protested. Their hand lifted for the door, fell back down, lifted again. The Empress’s command was like a chain around their waist, pulling them up with a painful jerk. They could not disobey her, could not - but -

“If you take one more step, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“But, you - your majesty, I need to go there,” Lian insisted. “I need - there’ll be so much to….”

No. Calm. Be calm. They forced themselves to put their arm down, turn back to face the Empress, hands folded in front of them neatly even though they felt shaky with adrenaline. This would go faster if they did it her way. They bowed low. “Your majesty. M-may I have leave to go to the docks? I’ll be needed.”

The empress gave a little laugh, all bright sharp glittering edges. “Needed? Hardly. Really, Lian, what do you imagine you’re going to be able to do? Cry on the flames, perhaps? Prettily beg and reason with the boats not to burn?”

Lian flinched. “I…”

“Everything is already being done, did you really think I was waiting for your input?”

Lian swallowed. Well, that’s good, then, they told themself fiercely. See, all isn’t lost, people are working on it. We’ll get through this. They shifted from foot to foot, aching with their need to go to their people. They should not be here watching the fires from the empress’ sitting room. Even if nobody had need of Lian’s direction, they should be with them in this disaster. What did Lian need to say to be allowed to do that?

“I’m sure… I’m sure everything possible is being done,” they said, feeling their way forward carefully. “What… what do you wish me to do?”

“Do?” The empress turned away from the window, letting the curtain fall from her fingers to billow into the room with the next gust of wind. Her lip curled. Her voice sounded odd - was she drunk? Had she just woken up? Surely not. “What do I want you to do, Lian? Nothing. There is nothing constructive that you can do.”

“Then why did you send for me?” Lian asked, their voice small.

“Because you should know, of course!” She stabbed one hand towards the window, a sharp movement without her usual control. Her voice rose, and Lian realised what was different about it. She was furious, past the point of hiding it, past the point of masking it under sweet little barbs and cool smiles and practiced stillness. Angry enough to warp the mask, her face twisted. “You should know what the latest piece of idiocy your people have done is!”

Their stomach dropped.

Oh. Of course. They should have realised as soon as they’d seen it. This isn’t a spontaneous disaster - someone set my city on fire on purpose.

It had to be the resistance movement, the one Lian had heard whispered rumours and hints about. Nothing more than those, and Lian hadn’t pushed to hear more, but it made sense. The docks and the eastern gate; if Lian had considered sabotage before this, those were the targets they probably would have banked on.

“My people?” they managed to say. “You mean… the rebels?”

Elisandre made a savage noise of amusement and annoyance. “As if there is a meaningful distinction between those! Coincidentally, I’m sure, all the ships that are burning right now are mine, or those of my allies. Since all the native ships were moved to the other side of the harbour late last night.” She gripped the curtain tightly, the fabric bunching in her fingers. “Oh, no, Lian, this operation wasn’t carried out by a handful of rebels. This was aided and abetted at every turn by your citizens.”

“I - no, please,” Lian protested weakly. Should they be upset? Angry? Betrayed? I spent so much time on getting the harbour repaired… if we don’t have it how will we trade, how will we bring in food? How many of our people will be ruined? This hurts us as much as it hurts the Empire, probably more. Could their people really have seen it as worthwhile?

Yes, they realised, and it made their heart throb with pride and sorrow and fear. If it hurt the Empire, if it set them back in their plans by even a few months, if it told them that Lian’s people were still here and still fighting… Yes, Lian understood how the resistance could do it, and how the ordinary people could let them. It wasn’t the way Lian would have chosen to respond, but they couldn’t say it was wrong.

But Lian would need to find a way to navigate them through the consequences. Including Elisandre’s anger, uncharacteristically out of control.

They took a few more steps into the room, giving up on the door and the idea of going to the docks in person. “My Empress,” they said shakily. “I am… I am appalled. I am s-so sorry, on behalf of those of my people who… Please, I know this can be only a tiny minority. We will find them. Don’t punish the innocent along with the guilty…”

“Innocent?” She whirled, setting the heavy golden braid swinging in the candlelight. Her voice climbed. “If I could find an innocent person in this city, perhaps that would give me some pause, but I have yet to see any evidence that such exists! The rebels warned your people to move their ships! Your supposed guards allowed them past and directed them to which ships to burn! Your people provided the materials and tools! Your people sheltered and hid them!”

They tried to speak, but she cut them off. Her eyes were fixed on them, alight with fury.

“Lian, dear,” she said, and the word was almost a snarl, “We both know that your people have been more trouble than they’re worth. You are a primitive little backwater that nobody cares about, with neither two coins to rub together nor a standing army worth spitting on, and you run your nation like it’s a village council - and yet! This collection of peasants and drudges that you call your people occasionally has this delusion that they can defy me and not suffer the consequences!”

“No,” Lian protested. They had thought they were already as afraid as they could be; they had been wrong. They had never seen her so angry. “Please, your majesty - my empress - we are - ”

They weren’t sure she heard them.

“It makes me ask myself, why bother?” she asked rhetorically. She turned again, with a swirl of white silk, and strode across the room to the table with its glass decanter. Her neck was a graceful curve as she bent her head over it; seed pearls shook slightly on the sleeves of her nightdress as she poured herself a goblet of water.

She paused a moment. When she turned back around, she seemed more composed; face smooth, the stem of the goblet held in steady elegant fingers. Her eyes were bright, cool and clear as water, as she watched Lian where they stood, clutching at their wrap with nerveless fingers, half-dressed and trembling in the middle of the room.

“I need your country, the fields, your harbour and your waterways, Lian, but it’s not as though I have any particular attachment to its inhabitants.” Her voice was low and sweet again, the raw anger pushed beneath to glint and flash under the surface. “I’m starting to think it would be a lot more efficient if I just cleared this whole little rats’ nest out and filled it with loyal countrymen instead. The people of this city would rather burn than allow us the use of your harbour? Very well. Never let it be said I don’t listen to my subjects.”

Lian tried to take a breath and couldn’t. They dropped to the ground, heedless of the pain as their knees hit the floor, only the thin fabric of their nightshirt to cushion them. Their palms were jarred against the floor.

“No,” they choked. “Don’t. Please. You can’t!”

She looked down at them, her lip raised in a sneer. “Can’t? Can’t? I think you’ll find there’s nothing I can’t do.”

Lian clasped their shaking hands and raised them, hardly knowing why. “Please, I’ll beg - whatever you want, I will, I, what do you need, I can…”

“Whatever I want? Yes.” She tilted her head. “Do you know, Lian dear, I think you’re going to get what you wanted after all.”

Lian’s hands faltered, and they pressed one to their mouth, muffling their words. “I… I’m… please…”

The empress put the goblet down on the table with a soft click, not a drop spilling. She smiled, under control again but just as angry, razor-sharp and glittering behind the soft curve of her lips. “You wanted to go down to the docks, didn’t you? If there is to be punishment, my dear, of course you shall be there to help me administer it.”

“No…”

“Of course, it’s true that I can’t eliminate the entire city,” she said, thoughtfully. “Not on such short notice, anyway, as much as I’d like to. It would be inconvenient. I’m thinking perhaps… One in three? Do you think the city could still function with that workforce? We must devise a fair way to make the selection, of course - you can help me with that, Lian. I’m sure you’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?”

Lian couldn’t help a strangled noise. One in three? Of the whole city? “No!”

“Come, now, you love that kind of thing. An opportunity to mitigate the damage?” She laughed. “You don’t want me to set one of my officials the task, do you? Why, he wouldn’t try to spare anybody at all.”

“No - your majesty, don’t, please,” Lian pleaded. “You don’t need to - you wouldn’t, it can’t be…” Their breathing was coming fast, catching in their throat with every word. They swallowed. No. No, I can’t let this happen, how do I stop this from happening? They caught their breath and shuffled forward on their knees, reaching out a hand and looking beseechingly upwards at her. “El, Elisandre, my empress, please -”

Elisandre looked down at the hand. She said nothing, but arched one perfect eyebrow, and gave a little huffing breath of amusement. Gathering a fold of silk with one hand, she pulled her skirts away out of Lian’s reach, and turned away to walk back across the room to the window. Idly, she pulled back the curtain with one hand to watch the fires.

Lian didn’t try to follow her. They crumpled where they were, feeling like the floor ought to be tipping under them, but it wasn’t. They laid their hands flat on the polished wood of the floor, feeling it firm and steady underneath them, panic coursing through every part of their body. They were aware of their knees against the floor and their ankles crossed and aching underneath them, their heart beating oddly slowly, the touch of the cold night air against their throat and chest and the smell of smoke.

I can’t let this happen. I can’t.

How can I stop it? I need to stop it. It can’t happen.

They gazed at Elisandre, at the thick golden braid falling down her back, at her slim shoulders set like granite in the soft candlelight as she looked out the window.

They hadn’t said anything to stop her so far, they’d barely had the chance to even try. Hopeless; everything they’d said today was nothing to her, she wasn’t listening, they had never seen her this angry before. Sometimes the empress entertained Lian’s arguments and let them make their case; at other times she gave nothing.

She wasn’t interested in playing games with them tonight. She meant every word.

What do I do, what do I do, how do I stop this… what do I DO?

Lian’s eyes searched the room, desperately, as if deliverance could be found in the smoky air outside the window, in the soft candlelit shadows, in the folds of Elisandre’s shift. They couldn’t stop it. In a few hours Lian was going to go down to the docks and pick out people to die. This was going to happen, the way so many things that Lian thought were unendurable had happened, when they weren’t quick enough, clever enough, persistent enough to stop it. Is there anything I could do to stop her, when she’s like this? They knew in their heart there wasn’t.

Their eyes skated past the glass decanter on the side table, half empty, light glinting off the sharp edges. And there it caught, and held.

The world seemed to pause, one stomach-turning weightless moment like being at the zenith of a swing or the instant after you jumped from a height.

Lian chose.

“Get up,” Elisandre said distantly. She didn’t turn to look at them; her attention was still focused outside, on the orange glow of Lian’s city as it burned. “Come over here.”

Lian pushed themselves up, fingers splayed against the floor, the white of their nightshirt fluttering at the edges of their vision. They let the wrap fall from their shoulders as they stood, and the air was cold across their back and against their ankles.

One step, then another. They reached out and took hold of the glass decanter, and the facets of the glass were cold and hard as their slim fingers closed around its neck.

Elisandre hadn’t turned around to look at Lian. Their bare feet were soundless as they took another step forward, resettling their grip. They registered the soft glugging noise and the cold on their hand as they raised the decanter, and water rushed over their hand and wrist. They knew a moment of fear that their grip might slip, and then there was no more thought because they’d already chosen and there was no going back.

Lian swung the decanter with all the strength their arm could muster, and brought it down across the beautiful shining gold of the empress’ head.

The decanter shuddered and leapt in Lian’s hand like a live thing as it came apart. The empress had been starting to turn; she staggered instead, the momentum spinning her as she dropped. Her outflung hand brushed against Lian’s arm as she fell and they stumbled backwards, the impact of the decanter still rebounding up their wrist.

The empress’ body, small, white and gold and tawny in the light, hit the little table, sending it and the rest of the glassware crashing to the floor with a shocking noise.

And then there was silence, and stillness, save for the curtain blowing gently in the smoke-scented wind.

Lian clutched their hand to their chest. Their fingers were stinging, distantly. They stared down at the motionless frame of the Empress Elisandre, twisted into an ungraceful sprawl over the upturned table, head tipped back at an awkward angle.

Thought rushed back, and they staggered and fell to their hands and knees with the buzzing, rushing weight of it.

What have I done? Is she dead? Oh, gods, if she isn’t - what if she’s not -

Instantly fulfilling the fear that had only just bloomed in Lian’s heart… the empress stirred. The tiniest, protesting noise through her nose, her head shifting and back arching.

No. No! Oh gods, what will she do? What will she do to us? No, no, no, she has to be dead, she has to be…

Lian’s fingers stung, and they looked down to see red on the floor. Their hands were welling up with drops of blood, bright against their brown skin. Shards of glass glittered, bright razor-thin edges, amongst their blood-daubed fingers.

She has to be dead. She has to die. I can’t have tried this and failed, I can’t, I can’t, what will she do…

Their fingers closed on the biggest shard of glass.

The empress stirred again, a slow breath out, her pale fingers moving against the silk of her shift. Terror brought Lian back up onto one knee and lunging towards the empress. Don’t think, don’t think, just do it, you have to. They pushed her chin back with their free hand, positioned the trembling bloody piece of glass. I can’t let her get up from this. They squeezed their eyes closed, and stabbed.

There was, once Lian summoned the courage to open their eyes, a lot of blood.

They made their trembling fingers open up to drop the piece of glass, which immediately became lost in the confusion of blood and silk and broken glass.

Lian fell back onto their rump on the floor, and shuffled themselves away backwards with little scuffling movements of their hands and feet, their chest heaving as if they’d run for miles.

Elisandre didn’t move. Her body lay there, a graceless bloody heap, and nothing about her moved.

What have I done?

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