Private Tales Denoument

[Medja]

For once, Medja sat alone within a chamber of the Imperial Palace that wasn't her own study or bedroom. The regent had decreed that there were to be no visitors, no dignitaries, no entertainers within the grand halls. Only guards, Hands, and what few servants were absolutely necessary. There was a malefactor being brought to justice here today...yet there would be no trial. No audacious presentation, no message to be sent to the public, no point to be made. No, there was only one word that rang in Medja's head, a simple question that repeated itself on loop for what had felt like an eternity.

Medja sat atop the imposing stone seat in utter silence, waiting. Though the skin of her hands sat upon its arms, her feet upon the floor, she did not reach out to sense what was coming. She dreaded it. Dreaded the arrival, the question she had to ask, the answer she wasn't even sure she'd receive. All the while her gaze was cold and empty, her eyes like wax as she stared at the doors to the hall outside the empty courtroom.

Until, at last, the sound of their hinges groaning marked the arrival she'd hoped might never come. A young woman, missing an arm, ushered in by a single guard.

"...Nymeasha."

 

[Nym]

The groaning of the great doors was like a death knell through the hollow chamber. Nym stepped into the cavernous silence with her chin held high, her bare feet whispering against the marble floor. A single guard shadowed her, moving her along as she faltered for a moment at the sight of Medja.

Nym’s emerald eyes, heavy with exhaustion, lifted to the throne. For the first time in years, she allowed them to linger on Medja. The sight of her, the woman who had once been her shield, her teacher, her only true mother, drove a spike of heat into her chest. Shame coiled through her like smoke in her lungs, but she swallowed it down. She would not bow her head.

Her lips pressed together, trembling for a heartbeat before she schooled them into stillness. She did not kneel. She did not beg.

She stood tall in the hollow hall, ragged and scarred, her chin defiant as though daring the Empress to carve her down further.

“…Medja.”

Her voice was quiet, but it carried. "I was, summoned..."

 

[Medja]

"Summoned" was putting it lightly. "Brought in" might've been more apt, but by the emphasis the girl put on the word, they both knew that there was venom behind it.

Nymeasha looked as though she'd been put in a tumbler with the roughest stones the Empire could muster. Time had not been kind to her, but Medja could not bring herself to ask what had happened. She could not show care, nor softness. Not now.

For a time, Medja remained stern, stoic. She dismissed the guard with a wave of her hand, and the echoing clunk of the door falling closed behind him marked the solitude the two women now shared. Medja breathed, her tone steady.
"I took you in. I gave you freedom. I trusted you," the Empress started, staring intently at the defiant viper before her. "When your brother came to seize the Salitran throne I denied it to him. I gave it to you, because I believed in you, because I cared for you, so why--"

Medja realized that she had stood from the stone seat. Not levitated as she so often did, no. Her feet were flat upon the floor, her hands balled into fists. Again she breathed, trying to keep her composure. That single word fell from her lips again.
"Why? Why have you done these things?"

 

[Nym]

The sound of Medja’s voice, that raw betrayal in it... Nym felt it coil around her throat like a noose, strangling the air from her lungs, making her chest ache with the weight of it. Her lips parted, but no words came at first. Only silence, thick and suffocating.

Her gaze, sharp as a serpent’s, wavered. She forced it steady, jaw tightening, her spine stiff. The glassy sheen in her eyes betrayed her, though she refused to let a single tear fall.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, fearing it might crack if she spoke too loudly..
“You should not have trusted me.”

Her chin rose, a brittle act of defiance, though shame burned hot in her gut. "I did not fight, when your hands came for me." she frowned. She knew what she'd done, and she'd accepted the consequence of it before word had likely even reached Medja. "Not so long ago, I would have. I would have had them slaughtered. Might have done it myself.. I might have brought my armies here, and fought you.." she laughed under her breath but the sound was mirthless. She'd have lost, but she'd have convinced herself otherwise, drunk on power and thinking herself as immortal as her father thought himself..

“It was.. Too much… All of it. Your trust. Your care. Your faith. My freedom.. You gave me everything, and I wasn't ready for any of it… I wanted them to believe I was worthy. My people, after what my father left behind in Salitra. They needed to see strength. So I showed them.”

Her breath caught, unsteady, “They did believe. I gave them victories. I raised armies. I took cities. They looked at me, and they saw power.”

Nym’s shoulders rose and fell, trembling with the effort of restraint. Her handless arm hung heavy at her side, she looked down at it for a moment, brow furrowed.

“But I betrayed you,” she finished, the words falling from her lips like ash. Her jaw clenched, her expression hard, daring Medja to see anything else in her face. “That is the truth you already know.. I failed you - but you failed me too. One shouldn't set loose a viper and be surprised when it bites." she said quickly, hurrying along the inevitable.

"So pass the sentence and get it over with." she swallowed.