Hall of Infinite Doors
It's not easy to find some privacy in the beautiful area around the Castle of Swans. People constantly hurry and bustle about, and much of the army is stationed there, not to mention the King's personal servants and craftspeople. However, an unspoiled woodland, housing boar and foxes and many wild animals for the royal family to hunt, butts up against the lattice of the Castle. Though regular folk can't go there, you, as Prince, are allowed. You grasp Elen by the arm and lead her off. The Castle has no gates; it's an open yard ringed and jumping with walkways and tunnels, and thus easy to sneak off of. People give you looks as you pass, but you let them just brush off of you. You feel like something's hard and dead inside, something that should be living and vital and unthought-of. Occasionally you let yourself hear a loud sob or sniff as Elen, trotting on beside you, slowly ceases her crying.
It is deep in the wide, mixed forest where you stop. Midafternoon makes the mossy floor look like spread emerald, and the air is diamond-clear around you. You bid Elen to lay in the ground before you and she does so. She does not resist, and once again that blank, expressionless look covers her face. Her eyes are empty, though like every animal they can be filled. They used to contain dreams, but then the sorceress took them; now they contain nothing, and they can only fill with deepest grief.
This is mercy. You remind yourself of that as you draw your sword. Though you've trained with the blade and have in cases killed with it, never like this. Never with a woman lying mute and motionless on the ground before you, staring blankly at the earth and unable to comprehend the death she is facing. If she struggled, or screamed, or made for your throat, it would be easier, but then you wouldn't be doing this.
You become very focused. You lift the light blade to your chest and bring it down in a swift and accurate strike. You are kind to Elen, and make sure that you sever her head in a single stroke. The only sound she makes is a liquid exhalation as breathing becomes impossible. You hide her body amid the leaves and deadfall, a meat present for a forest carnivore, clean your sword, and walk back to the Castle. You feel dead and drained, like something is preventing you from feeling what you just did.
Over the next few days life progresses as it usually does. Nothing much gets better, but you find yourself afflicted with a lethargy and sadness like nothing you've known before. Your actions finally begin to seep into your heart, and before you sleep at night you cry, just a little. Your actions begin to get around, however; despite your attempts at clandestinely sneaking off, you were noted, and it was noticed that only you returned from the royal wood and that the kitchen girl was not seen since. Queer looks are leveled at you, filled with questions, and some people address you directly about what occurred. You make up lies on the spot, flustered and depressed, but eventually some forward-thinking guard searches the wood by himself and discovers the girl's remains. It is then that justice falls on you.
Murder is an awkward thing when royalty is concerned. Usually, people of power have the leisure of killing if they are important enough - and you know you are - so long as it's done quietly, for decent reasons, and not too often. You KNOW you've done nothing like that before, but still the full force of some overprotective justice system falls on you. It seems that almost instantly vague rumors and whisperings turn to open hostility, and several times you are attacked by servants and staff, either with words or with actual blows. It's like some secret button was pushed, and now the world is united in hate of you.
Eventually justice is taken. A trial is done in secret, though you do not know of this before guards arrive at your spire and seize you. You do not receive the indignity of a dungeon stay, as princes do not linger in darkness. You are taken outside in the bright of day and beheaded the same day you are arrested.
It is deep in the wide, mixed forest where you stop. Midafternoon makes the mossy floor look like spread emerald, and the air is diamond-clear around you. You bid Elen to lay in the ground before you and she does so. She does not resist, and once again that blank, expressionless look covers her face. Her eyes are empty, though like every animal they can be filled. They used to contain dreams, but then the sorceress took them; now they contain nothing, and they can only fill with deepest grief.
This is mercy. You remind yourself of that as you draw your sword. Though you've trained with the blade and have in cases killed with it, never like this. Never with a woman lying mute and motionless on the ground before you, staring blankly at the earth and unable to comprehend the death she is facing. If she struggled, or screamed, or made for your throat, it would be easier, but then you wouldn't be doing this.
You become very focused. You lift the light blade to your chest and bring it down in a swift and accurate strike. You are kind to Elen, and make sure that you sever her head in a single stroke. The only sound she makes is a liquid exhalation as breathing becomes impossible. You hide her body amid the leaves and deadfall, a meat present for a forest carnivore, clean your sword, and walk back to the Castle. You feel dead and drained, like something is preventing you from feeling what you just did.
Over the next few days life progresses as it usually does. Nothing much gets better, but you find yourself afflicted with a lethargy and sadness like nothing you've known before. Your actions finally begin to seep into your heart, and before you sleep at night you cry, just a little. Your actions begin to get around, however; despite your attempts at clandestinely sneaking off, you were noted, and it was noticed that only you returned from the royal wood and that the kitchen girl was not seen since. Queer looks are leveled at you, filled with questions, and some people address you directly about what occurred. You make up lies on the spot, flustered and depressed, but eventually some forward-thinking guard searches the wood by himself and discovers the girl's remains. It is then that justice falls on you.
Murder is an awkward thing when royalty is concerned. Usually, people of power have the leisure of killing if they are important enough - and you know you are - so long as it's done quietly, for decent reasons, and not too often. You KNOW you've done nothing like that before, but still the full force of some overprotective justice system falls on you. It seems that almost instantly vague rumors and whisperings turn to open hostility, and several times you are attacked by servants and staff, either with words or with actual blows. It's like some secret button was pushed, and now the world is united in hate of you.
Eventually justice is taken. A trial is done in secret, though you do not know of this before guards arrive at your spire and seize you. You do not receive the indignity of a dungeon stay, as princes do not linger in darkness. You are taken outside in the bright of day and beheaded the same day you are arrested.
