[RP Blitz] Long Live the King

Two prisoners are locked away in the dungeons of Ebony Keep. One night, a Kindling extremist — rejected by their own — infiltrates the prison, purposely getting caught to search for like minds within the cells. The only string they have to pull lands them in the same cell as two other prisoners who hate King Rhys as much as they do. Together, they conspire not only to escape, but to fulfill the prophecy by their own means. They all agree the king deserves to die and embrace a suicide mission that shouldn't be possible... unless it is.


This fast-paced action heist and assassination features the following MCs and their writers:

There were no good days in the Keep. Only ones where you either lived to curse your cramped prison walls for a little longer, or ones you didn't.

Still, it was Vinda. The only day of the week Ludivine bothered to look forward to. She'd been doing a good job of keeping time so far, leaving a thin gouge of a tally mark on the wall near her cot for every day that had passed. The effort had worn at her thumbnail, and it felt unfathomable that not long ago, she'd had hands that never showed a hint of labor-- soft, uncalloused hands, almost as much as the nobles in the palace she'd served for so long. But her hands had never been clean then. It was only here, in the derelict cell she'd spend the rest of her life in, where Ludivine had finally been absolved of what she'd done for that king.

Another drop of water dripped down from the ceiling, seeping into the permanent layer of dirt on the ground, and Ludivine sighed. She hoped that was water.

"Drip, drip, drop. Another big plop. Maybe for dinner they will bring us slop," her cellmate sing-songed.

With exasperation she didn't mean, Ludivine rolled her eyes skyward-- or rather, to the cracked stone of the cell above where the drop had fallen from. "You know very well Vinda is a gruel day, Magessa."

"Cold. Cruel. The locked up fool. Always on Vinda, they will bring us gruel," Magessa corrected, mimicking the same melodic rise and fall. Cheerful as her tone was, it didn't quite match her weary, glazed stare, pointed at the ceiling with her head leaned back against the wall. The rhyme ended in a deep sigh, and Magessa bounced her head forward, combing at her greasy, unruly curls. Ludivine, too, understood the pain of neglected hair care.

"That's more like it." Ludivine shifted on her cot, folding her legs underneath her to sit back on her heels. Like so many other things, she'd taken freedom of movement for granted before arriving here. There was much to mourn.

"Do you tick the hours in your head like you do the days?" Magessa asked, tightening the ribbon in her hair. "Count it down, you know, until your darling arrives?"

"I'm never on the mark. But yes, I do count." Ludivine inhaled, letting her head fall back against the wall as well. "It's always so much longer than I think it will be."

"Well, at least you can count," Magessa said. "Unlike Horace in the next cell over."

"Hey," the old man groaned softly.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Magessa said. "Which is to say, 'can't be taught mathematics, unless you take the oath.' I bet since you've been here, they started requiring an oath to buy bread."

"I'd put money on it, but I'm relegated to a beggar myself," Ludivine murmured.

She'd barely finished speaking when familiar footsteps, each pair slightly out of rhythm, tapped over the hallway cobblestones, and she found her lip curling. She was no Soundwave Sorceror like Samaan, but she'd learned to identify Markel's gait from a distance. It proved difficult to forget the details of a man who'd ruined her life so thoroughly.

Sure enough, the Fetcher's hawk-like features appeared through the bars. Fitting, for someone whose only purpose was to prey on others-- someone who would likely crumble if he was robbed of his chance to make others miserable. Worse than that face, however, was the sad pout-like expression he always seemed to wear. He should be sad, Ludivine thought. But he had no right to look so pitiful when he stood so utterly undeserving of sympathy.

"Magessa," Markel said, his tone favoring her like a gentle touch.

It send chills crawling down Ludivine's spine.

Magessa jumped to her feet, overjoyed for any difference of company, even if it was the King's pet. She rushed to the bars and gripped them, bouncing on her feet with a performative energy sure to fade the moment he left.

"If it isn't Mr. Severance, here to bring my sentence," she smiled. "Tell me, Fetcher of the Keep, has the day come where I finally go to sleep?"

Behind her, Ludivine made direct eye contact with Markel, making sure she'd snagged his attention for a second before dropping her stare to his boots and visibly gagging. There was nothing wrong with the boots, exactly-- besides the fact that he was in them-- but she could tell she'd planted the thought in his head, if only for a moment. In front of Magessa, no less.

Sure enough, he shifted his feet uncertainly, failing to compose himself, and the smile he offered her afterwards was completely empty behind the eyes. Ludivine only grinned.

"Not so," Markel answered, returning his stare to Magessa. "The King has prolonged your execution for another month."

"And for what merit do I receive this mercy?" Magessa tilted her head.

"If I were to know, I'd have no liberty to say," Markel said.

No matter how many times Magessa batted her wide, pleading eyes, he did not relent on that answer. Every few weeks, he came around again, with the same message, and the same lingering gaze. Magessa never flinched beneath it the way she ought to. Without fail, it was like she was back in the palace again, putting on a show for the King's Court, even if it was for one member.

If only Markel knew he was the fool here.

"Enjoy the king's blessings," Markel said.

"As I'm always wont to do," Magessa curtsied. "But I'm clearly still confused! Is there nothing you can say, why for a year, they still delay?"

Markel's smirk curled, and he turned away, far too satisfied. "Perhaps next time," he teased.

Magessa reached through the bars. "But next time might be my last!" she said, a tear of desperation leaking through. "Or is the inevitable un-evitable?"

Her plea dissipated as Markel disappeared through the door to the upper levels, regarding them no more. Magessa sighed and dropped her arm limply, sliding to her knees against the bars. She did not bother adjusting to a better posture.

"He keeps coming back, but I've outlived every prisoner here," she murmured into her chest. "If the King wants me dead, why won't he finish it? Is uncertainty part of the punishment?"

It was the most honest Magessa had been in their three months together, and perhaps the first time she'd dropped the jokes as well as her spirits.

"He's sick and twisted," Ludivine muttered. "Both of them are."

It was far from the full answer, though. Inducing the agony of waiting was far from below King Rhys, but she couldn't help but feel there was something more to it. Something that kept evading her. Was it possible the king was stalling out of regret, looking for an excuse to back out of the sentence he'd so cruelly given Magessa? Of course, he was a coward, but this was a new level of low, even for him.

King Rhys. Even as a thought, the name brought a bitterness curdling in her chest. As long as he lived, he'd keep inventing new sadistic ways to ensure that throne would be his and his alone.

"I don't know the full extent of what your relationship with him looked like," Ludivine said at last. "But I can say this-- don't do yourself the disservice of trying to read his mind. There's nothing but poison lurking in there."

"It's not all poison," Magessa said, rubbing the fabric of her shirt between her fingers. Her eyes grew lost as they hinged on that motion, avoiding Ludivine's gaze. "I would know. Many wine-tasters come and go. Can't be that much poison in him if it's caught by others first."

Ludivine huffed a laugh through her nose, but she couldn't help but watch the woman with pity. Maybe she'd never see the way Magessa thought, but she hadn't been here as long as she had. She didn't know what experiences had lent themselves to that outlook.

What would become of her, when she'd spent one year of her life sentence? Five years? Twenty? The thought made her blood run cold.

"Poison or not," she said, "he's still the one who doomed you before he's the one who's saving you."

"Which is just like a king to be. One face for the public, one face for the court, and a dozen more hidden within his cohort," she huffed. "But he kept me close, you know. How great a fall, within these walls, while once his favorite. I'm sure you know how quickly his trust is lost."

"Better than most. But probably not better than you." Ludivine rested her chin on her palm, following Magessa's distant gaze out the bars.

"It was a poorly timed joke, in good faith," Magessa muttered. "You'd have laughed. I'm sure of it."

Ludivine cracked a faint smile. She'd never been one to lose her composure laughing, and the prospect seemed especially distant here. Still, Magessa had been good at what she did-- the best, even. "I'll take your word for it."

Magessa looked up, suddenly pleading with shining eyes. "You don't want to hear it?"

"You know what-- lay it on me." Ludivine swept her hand around the cell. "It's not like there's anything else competiting for the time."

With a grin, Magessa threw her wild ponytail over her shoulder and sat up straight, bowing her head with a hand outstretched. "Picture for me that you are King Rhys, surrounded by nobles, politicians, and military men. We've all become a bit tipsy, you know, for the night's revelries have gone long."

"Very well. I am he." Ludivine sat up straighter, allowing a regal, smug expression mask to slip on her face. "'What a lovely feast. I think I'll ruin it by overreacting to the next words out of my jester's mouth.'"

Magessa grinned wide, and it was as if her face paint returned with the jingling bells of her hat. Her manner was so alive, it was like Magessa truly pictured the palace inside the cell walls. With a chuckle, she sidled up to Ludivine and bowed lower, both hands stretched to her sides.

"Royal exchange? How generous of His Majesty. I was beginning to think he would never acknowledge his spare change."

A disbelieving chuckle tumbled out of Ludivine's mouth. "You told him-- my, my. I'm not sure whether to be impressed, or surprised he was so fragile he had to throw you out over that." She paused. "Not surprised, never mind. You probably shattered his spine with that."

"Perhaps," she said. "For each vertabrae lost, I aquire another month of uncertainty as penance."

"I'm not quite sure about that conversion rate."

"At this rate, we can't be," Magessa said. "If he's not set me aside for his pride, then what else? Some affection?" Her laugh was almost warm.

Ludivine instinctively wanted to refute that, but she couldn't bear to see the light in Magessa's eyes go out. Instead, she let out a thoughtful hum.

"Well... you did grow up in the court," she said, picking words carefully. "I could see nobles feeling something familial towards you. Parental, even."

That thought spawned a question, one she couldn't help but ask.

"Magessa, do you know who your parents are?"

But Magessa didn't have time to answer that-- barely even seemed to have the time to process it-- before a new set of footsteps sounded over the halls. Footsteps she couldn't forget if she had a thousand lifetimes to try. Forgetting she even asked, all other thoughts left her mind as Ludivine rose from her cot, gliding towards the bars in expectation of the beloved man she would find there.

It was Vinda, after all. That was the day her husband visited. Her darling Samaan.

Ebony Keep held air like a diver's breath. Stale, but in motion, sound traveled through brick walls, cement, and fortified metal beams. It bounced off every surface, reverberated through iron doorways, and drifted through vents like the wind Samaan wished they carried.

Warden Fergus Massian's footfalls were distinctly weighted like sandbags, thudding softly under his stocky frame at a pace so steady, Samaan could count on it. In Samaan's third level quarters, everything was still. He tapped his fingers over his desk and counted the seconds it took for Massian to walk the stairwell, one level down, holding every minute of Samaan's life in his hands.

Fifteen years ago, when he was first indentured to the king in Ebony Keep, he'd reveled in the opportunity to use his magic for the good of the crown. Monitoring the keep with his enhanced hearing, for security, seemed a worthwhile mission. That wide-eyed naïveté burned out of him slowly, as each year drew him closer to earth, where the blood Rhys pooled for the Loyalists was thicker than the walls Rhys kept him in, contracted to listen forever.

As Massian drew nearer, prisoners groaned in the floors below. Hungry, sickly, and wasting away, most awaited their death day, when an execution would clear out their broken bed for another dissident. Fifteen years, and that cycle repeated. Cells that once held one or two were near bursting, and while guards could forget the conditions behind padded walls, Samaan's ears were always open. Never before had he felt so trapped as an audience for human suffering.

The cool air in his office displaced like a hitched breath when Massian opened the door. There, the warden's tired, guarded gaze loomed behind a shadow. One floor below-ground, Samaan's lamp was the only light in his office, flickering on his desk with crackles Samaan long-since tuned out.

"Mosi," Massian said. "You have thirty minutes."

Samaan smiled thinly as he got to his feet. Five years of constant companionship, reduced to thirty minutes a week with his wife, separated by iron bars. The past 3 months had been the longest of his life.

"Thank you, Massian," he said, following the Warden into the hall. He closed the door softly behind him.

"I'll remind you of the king's generosity that you're permitted to see her," Massian said. "If it were up to me, I'd advise you not to. I want to believe you're the victim of her secrecy, but you know how it looks, Mosi."

"I know," Samaan agreed, but his heart twisted.

Massian pursed his lips and patted Samaan's shoulder with a heavy sigh. Samaan convinced the crown of his innocence, but he'd barely been able to shield Ludivine from the king's wrath. Imprisonment was a softer sentence, but he couldn't imagine a lifetime spent like this; monitoring her from a distance while she sat in filth. If Massian held half the pity for Ludivine that he did for Samaan, he'd understand why a weekly visit was insufficient.

Or maybe he never would. The Warden had never married.

They reached the end of the hall, each reserving their honesty for a space beyond the Keep, and the guards greeted him with fists clapped to their chests, ever in the shadow of their vows to the king and each other. The Warden followed behind as they made their descent. Two stairwells, separated by one iron door. It creaked when the lock was undone, sighing with the stench of every cell's built up refuse and grime. A familiar chill ran over him as the Keep swallowed him up, and the fifth floor spilled out like a dark runway.

Here, Massian stopped as his only true kindness; allowing privacy between one prisoner to another, not because of marriage, but because of contracts. To this day, he was the only one given this freedom because of his position in the keep as the High Soundwave Sorcerer. But freedom had always been an illusion. Now, it was an insult.

"I'll be back--"

"--In thirty minutes," Samaan said. "I will see you then, Massian."

The warden departed with a terse nod, and Samaan hastened down the cooridor to Ludivine's cell. At the far end, in the barely beating heart of torchlight, his wife held the bars in wait for him.

His smile came as quickly as the tears. Running the last of the way, he reached through the bars and held her face, kissing her deeply before pulling away, unwilling to let her go.

Ludivine smiled, moving her hand to rest at the nape of his neck, holding him there. She always stood so tall these days, looked so brave, despite the weariness taking hold of her features. He prayed he'd never see the day she lost her steadfastness-- though he truly couldn't imagine it. Even imprisoned and cast out of her former glory, she didn't wear an inch of defeat.

"Ludi," he said. "Are you well?"

"As well as I can be," she promised, before tilting her head to examine him, her loving expression mixing with soft curiosity and concern. "What about you, darling? I'm counting a couple white hairs on your head."

His smile pulled tighter, but adoration filled with pained longing and empathy. The smell of her cell had worsened to the point of revulsion, but she was desensitized to it.

"I miss you," he said, throat knotting. "I wish I--"

"Could get us out of here?" Magessa chirped from the back of the cell, shattering the illusion of privacy that never was.

In unison, he and Ludivine glanced to the corner, still holding the others' face.

"Good evening, Magessa," Samaan said flatly.

"Aw, you know I was only joking!" Magessa smiled.

"It's what you do best," Ludivine said, shaking her head, though it was said without any heat. After three months of them sharing a cell, Samaan had seen the two of them become about as amicable as any unlikely pairing could be, under the circumstances-- and yet, he knew she craved a moment of solitude as much as he did. This was the closest they would ever get to that kind of peace again.

Magessa raised her hands and turned away. "Alright, alright. You have your moment. I'll just be here. Sitting."

"Your kindness will not be forgotten." Ludivine turned back to Samaan again, still smiling, though it had tamed a little. "I've missed you, too. I never thought I'd have such a strongly-held favorite day of the week before this."

"Vinda is, by many leagues, the greatest day of the week," Samaan agreed. "But it's hardly enough. I... I don't know how we're going to keep doing this, Ludi."

Ludivine was silent for a beat-- just the one, but it didn't suit her well. In all their time together, he could count on one hand all the times she'd been at a loss for words.

"There's a part of me with the instinct to stay on good behavior," she murmured. "Like I could somehow get myself out of this by keeping my head down. But that wouldn't accomplish anything, would it? No amount of playing nice would earn me a second chance. I'm here now. I might as well be stubborn about it."

Samaan took in a deep breath, rested his forehead against hers, and held her as close as he could. He hated how right she was. Once broken, the king's trust was lost for good. Even he, when he pleaded for Ludivine's life, was met with suspicion. It made every word he said a piece of evidence to his record. Even here, he kept his voice low, for fear of adding anything to Markel's case. If he'd had it out for Ludivine, he was chomping at the bit to damn Samaan, because if Samaan was caught as a skeptic, his plea bargain would fall through like water in a sieve. He and Ludivine would die publicly for all the trust they'd betrayed.

For a moment, he could say nothing as they managed the closest thing to an embrace they would ever have again.

"I will keep coming for you," he promised softly. "If this is all there is for us... I will savor every moment."

It was better this than a life without her.

Ludivine rubbed the space between his shoulder blades soothingly, undeterred by the tarnished steel bars between them. All of this to spare innocents from the Keep, and she landed right where they would've.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, and the spark in her eyes lit a quiet fire to the tenderness in her voice. If she could crack a joke in times like these, perhaps she could stand up to anything. "You're worth every minute of the waiting."

But there was nothing she could do behind bars. It was up to him, and he'd already cashed all of his favors by sparing her life.

He smiled sadly. "Right." Waiting. As if something else would come after this.

There was more he wanted to say. Far more than he could trust to the murmuring witnesses in nearby cells. Ludivine had one freedom behind bars that Samaan never did, and that was no further consequence for her speech. For weeks, he'd wished to tell his wife that he didn't blame her. He wouldn't take back all the years she'd spent rescuing skeptics from the streets. He'd cover her, all over again, for many more years if he could, still knowing the risk was always this: a slow death, in a cell.

Swallowed sedition pooled like poison in his stomach, and now he was doubly sick for the only love he'd come to cherish above all others. He kissed Ludi's cheek and reached into his pocket, slipping a bar of soap into her hand in the darkness between them.

A floor above them, the Warden's footfalls were accompanied by the tromping of four guards, and the light steps of another. If he didn't give this gift now, he'd wait another week. Their time was about to be cut short.

Ludivine clutched the bar tightly, lifting it up to her nose to give it a whiff. The smell of lavender-- her favorite flower, just like what he'd been sure to include in any bouquet he'd gifted her before this-- was sweet and airy enough to carry over the harsh scents of the prison. The delight in her eyes was enough to almost make all of this worth it.

"You're too kind," she breathed.

His gaze softened. "I hope you're able to keep it. Hide it, now. Quickly."

Ludivine swiftly tucked it into the sleeve of her faded tunic. She couldn't have heard what he had, but she must've sensed there was a reason for his urgency, because there was a question written on her face when she looked up again.

"The Warden's returning," Samaan whispered.

"I thought we had a half-hour?" Even in a hushed tone, Ludivine couldn't hide her disappointment.

"They're bringing someone to the lower level," he murmured, glancing towards the stairwell. His heart sank. "Another prisoner." And a struggle.

Ludivine's gaze flicked briefly in that direction before leaning in for one more kiss. What the first one held in relief, the last one always carried in regret. Samaan couldn't help the tears that brimmed his eyes once more. The opening of the door propelled him to rip away, despite every desire to stay. He forced his lips into a line, but a new sob found its way up every time. Vinda after Vinda, he swallowed it down.

"Stay brave, darling," Ludivine murmured, offering him the saddest smile he'd seen from her yet. "I'll see you next week."

Next week. It was going to be a long one. It always was, now. Samaan imagined this moment extending another twenty minutes more. The guards stormed in with a new victim down the corridor, and Samaan squeezed Ludivine's hand.

He kissed her cheek one last time. "Stay safe, my love."

Ebony felt like a graveyard this evening, freshly dug for its next inhabitant. Every single building in the stuffed city were like etches in the dirt, all beckoning to be enclosed with its latest prisoner. Even on a dirt path like this one, nestled snugly in the trenches of Ebony's innards, Aleksina Viscretia could make out the spires of the Sterling Palace on one edge of her sight and the mountains that held Ebony Keep on the opposite end of her peripheral. Like two guardians. Like two overseers, one to gorge you on lies and the other to snuff out the truth. Two last arbiters of justice waiting for her to lie in the grave, all obedient and wide eyed.

The first twinkles of stars glinted through the evening stretch of sky. She barely had time to relax. It was the next few hours that mattered now. Nerves tugged at Aleksina's innards. So close to the end, it was the moment before the strike that cause the most pause. Everything seemed to click together afterwards, and nerves were washed away with blood. Even after all of these years, Aleksina could never get rid of that last minute pang that tried to caution her from whatever bad thing she was going to do at that moment. In her head, she imagined it was her brothers reprimanding her and telling her that she knew better. Perhaps, in those moments, it was all that she had left of them. Maybe that was why she still latched onto it.

She stopped when the dirt path met a cobbled one and flickering lantern lights reminded her she was not alone anymore. A puddle rippled from the ambient raucous of the inn besides it. Aleksina caught a glance of her reflection in the clear water. She didn't know what she looked like anymore. She certainly didn't look like herself. And she no longer saw her brothers in her. Perhaps she forgot what they looked like, or maybe she forgot what she was supposed to look like. All she saw was a blade, a means to an end, a punctuation at the end of the prophecy. Her frown deepened and she pushed through, trampling past the pond.

This specific tavern was nothing special; there were plenty of them sprawled throughout Ebony and in every city within Blitzia. She passed at least a handful of them on her way to this one, The Pig's Blood, from her temporary enclosure. According to her reports, though, this one had what she needed. She stopped right before the lazily swinging saloon doors, the hitch deep within her halting her for just a moment. Its singe of pain signaling the last remnant of something better, a whispered beg. One final stop.

Aleksina knew her mission. She shoved open the doors and tramped into the tavern, daring every pair of eyes to catch her in their gaze. She wanted none of them, though. She made a beeline to a lone guard sitting on one corner of the bar, who just got off of their shift and was currently wallowing in their own little hole of misery. They were very much out of their league, and that was just what she was looking for. Unfortunately for this guard, his day had just begun. Aleksina plopped herself down next to him and plucked the drink from in front of him, downing it in one gulp. As he glanced up, confusion on his face, Aleksina winked at him. "I hope I didn't interrupt your evening, handsome."

Drown it all in blood.



It was a quick time in the inn for Aleksina. Just a deal, a whisper, and a chant later, and she and many of the other probably lovely folks from the tavern who maybe had a bit too much to drink were rounded up by the off-duty officials who were hoping to have a break from the constant Loyalist drivel. Too bad that on this day they had decided to pick the very same inn that Aleksina had been scouting for the past few weeks. Just a simple phrase to start it off: to good tides and brisk blessings -- a traditional greeting turned Kindling dogwhistle within the town of Ebony -- and enough drunkards that anything could become a chant -- and the tavern spiralled into chaos so quickly that it shocked even Aleksina, who had purposely prepared for this to happen.

Just before the chaos got too rowdy, Aleksina struck a deal with the guard she enticed. It was a simple ask, something any single guard who worked Ebony Keep could accomplish if they were given the right parameters, but only if they were... malleable.

And so Aleksina found herself right where she wanted, leading the group of now prisoners of the kingdom of Ebony into the lower levels of Ebony Keep, the ones where they keep their ever growing number of inmates. The hall was surrounded by grimy, tiny cells on either side, all the while narrowing more and more as they followed the curved way to the end of Level Four. They were likely to take her to the very end of the hall so they had room to put all of their new prisoners away at the same time; she led the line, after all.

But, Level Four was not where Aleksina needed to be. She needed to be even deeper in the guts of this damned place, the level where only the King's most horrid offenders would stay until they were hanged or rotted away.

Aleksina and the three guards attached to her hip arrived at the end of the hall, cells to her left and right, and darkness in front of her. The entrance to Level Five.

Now, a simple drunk ruffian? There was no way they'd earn their keep enough to be escorted down those stairs. There was two things that both needed to be achieved to earn a free one-way trip to the rest of your life: know the King and betray the King. And while Aleksina could have pretty easily done the second one, without also having the first one, she would have just been executed in a back alley and tossed aside. She had to do something incredibly risky: chance her way into the exact cell she needed.

For one, she couldn't have gotten arrested by herself. That would have made her too noticable and too suspicious if she tried anything. Second, she couldn't try this during the day. Those guards were well rested and alert. She had to attempt this at night and with guards who were already off-duty and a little tipsy themselves. Add drunkards into the mix for the appropriate level of chaos so the guards were both on edge and their least suspecting, and it was the perfect mix for her to try the next step.

As soon as the guards far behind her began opening the cell doors and shoving the drunken inn-goers inside their cells, Aleksina coughed and dropped to her knees, bellowing out a low groan like she was about to empty the contents of her stomach.

"Get up," the guard behind her nudged her shoulder, but she didn't respond.

Before the guard on her left could open the cell, the guard behind her bent over to grab her arm and force her up. The moment the keys turned on the cell door, Aleksina latched her chained hands onto the guard's arm and yanked it forward, pulling the guard towards her. She slammed her skull backward, ramming into the guard's nose, breaking it on impact. Her vision blurred but she continued pressing on. She bit down on the guard's hand, tasting blood as he tried to pull away. She didn't want to tear off an appendage, so she let go on the second tug. The guard behind her withdrew his hand just as she let go, and he toppled back, slamming into the ground with a choked yell. The guard on Aleksina's right just noticed something had happened and shouted something that was drowned out in the shouting of the inmates, especially the ones near what was about to happen.

The guards on both her right and left both noticed their companion reeling on the floor. The left guard acted first, which was what Aleksina hoped for. That was her little guard friend, Stefan. He was genuinely shocked as to what was happenining, and absolutely out of his depth. Aleksina didn't want to get rid of him just yet --she needed him-- so she just rammed him against the bars, letting the inmates grab ahold of him to hold him off. They naturally obliged. She faced the third guard and screamed at the top of her lungs, "I don't want to go to jail!" This was the last piece she needed to avoid suspicion of anything more nefarious. She swung a wide and slow strike to the third guard, who blocked her and grabbed ahold of her changed hands, shoving them down. The force of it brought her to her knees. She lolled her head in defeat. Was it enough?

She closed her eyes as she was brutalized by the remaining guards, listening to the chaos she caused around her as more and more fights broke up within the hall behind her.

"This one deserves a special place." That was Stefan, who sounded out of breath. She only had two guards leading her down the stairs this time. She acted like she was in some kind of comatose, but her eyes took a peek of the scene behind her. Her third guard was holding his hand gingernly, blood spilling from his nose as he was talking to another guard. She held her smile back as the amazing picture lurched out of her vision, one step at a time.

Level Five was much quieter. Instead of shouting, there were only guttural moans. The place felt thick with death and decay, unlike a jail or even a prison. This was a morgue. The silence was in stark contrast to the cacophony above; she couldn't even tell a riot was happening just above their heads. She dragged her feet, forcing the guards to half-carry her. Her half-closed eyes saw a figure scurrying past her, confusion written all over his face. With that face, she couldn't tell who wasn't supposed to be down there, him or her. She groaned intermittedly until they stopped.

"In here," Stefan announced.

"You sure?" The other guard asked, sounding entirely unsure himself.

"We'll move her in the morning to her final resting place." That sounded like her grave, and a warning from Stefan.

"Back up!" The other guard stated.

Aleksina heard nothing but some shuffling in response. She didn't lift her head at all, and let the guards shove her into the cell, where she fell onto the ground, groveling to herself. She didn't move until she heard the guards close the cell door, walk off and back to Level Four, and couldn't actually hear them anymore. Even then, she waited a few more moments, and one of her guard mates shuffled forward.

She jerked up, shocking both of the other two women in the cell, and struggled to her feet. She shook hair out of her face; her bun had begun to fall apart with all of the struggle. Aleksina jerked at her chained arms. She chuckled dryly.

"So... put a jester, a sorcerer, and an assassin in a cell. What could go wrong?"

Company.

It was both a welcomed and resented commodity in Ebony Keep: conversation was one of the only things to keep a person sane here, but personal space was at a premium. Looking at the battered woman who had just been unceremoniously tossed between her and Magessa, Ludivine had to wonder-- would she be help or hindrance?

With only two sentences out of her mouth, it was impossible to glean a clear-cut answer immediately. And yet the familiarity the words held gnawed uncomfortably at Ludivine's thoughts.

The woman barely had the wits to stand. Who was she, then, that she could be thrown into a cell and immediately know who its two occupants were?

An assassin, apparently. That detail was hardly reassuring.

"Quite the question, new fair dame," Magessa said, offering the woman a hand once the shock had worn away. "Perhaps you'll tell us what's your name?"

The woman feigned a deep bow and held out her chained hand, "Aleksina. I assume you're the infamous Magessa, the once court jester."

"Infamous!" Magessa pulled Aleksina to her feet, brushing her off. "Have I truly aquired such fame?"

"You, my dear, are the light in the ball, for any with eyes to see." Aleksina set her eyes upon Ludivine, all humor that was once around her face completely absent, although she still held the lilting levity in her voice. She pointed to Ludivine's bed. "Do you mind? I had a bit of a scuffle upstairs." Without hearing an answer, she plopped down on the cot.

Ludivine merely raised her eyebrows. A few minutes without it wouldn't kill her, she supposed, but once curfew rolled around it would be a different story.

"Forsooth, you are quite the sight. It seems you pitch a real fight! Deserving of a good rest." Magessa looked between the three of them, hands on her hips as she stood by the bed. "How do you know my cellmate?"

"She doesn't know me," Ludivine said, with a shake of her head to Magessa. "Not beyond a title that no longer matters, at least."

"What do you mean, Ludivine?" Aleksina scoffed. "Everyone knows of the rebel Light Sorcerer."

"So you've picked up a herald's gazette in the last season." Ludivine shrugged. "Alright. Who did you kill, then?"

"You made the waves in the taverns. The King's mighty High Light, fallen. Some even thought you were a secret Kindling, an implant to kill her brother." Aleksina stared Ludivine down, something sinister hiding behind her black pupils. "Would be crazy, being a Kindling... right?"

"You should stop talking," Ludivine said firmly. "Especially if you're not going to answer my question. There are ears everywhere."

Only one set of ears in particular, really. But Samaan didn't miss anything.

Aleksina leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms as well as she could while they were chained. "What's the point. You heard the guard, I'm gonna be gone in the morning. People either rot in here or line the walls outside." Her eyes flickered over to Magessa, who clapped her hands together with a smile. "Well, almost everyone."

"Perhaps we should all take a swift sleep! Ludivine is right, it's best not to peep! Ludivine, you take my cot. I've already laid in it an awful lot." She swept her arms to the sinking frame, clearly avoiding Aleksina's gaze.

Aleksina nodded to Magessa's suggestion, seeming to consider it like it was sound advice. "We could, jester. We could treat tonight like it didn't happen, and in the morning it'll all be over. Tomorrow you two can go back to this," she gestured around her, her chains clinking against themselves. "I'll be like a bad dream, something you can forget." She smiled, but there was no joy behind it. "Back to normal."

Ludivine resisted the urge to narrow her eyes at the newcomer. Instead, she kept her face impassive as she reclaimed her cot. She refused to turn her back on her, so she turned to face away from the wall on her side. Curfew demanded absolute silence-- it was the time Samaan rested-- and it couldn't be far.

Sure enough, guards made their rounds within the next few minutes to dim the torches and ensure everyone was accounted for. It was possible to talk during this time, Ludivine knew-- the guards were at opposite ends of the hallway, and they had ordinary hearing. She'd rarely had anything that needed saying to Magessa in hushed whispers, but with a complete stranger lying on the other side of the cell, Ludivine could not help but feel urgency-- an urgency that felt out of place with the staggering sentence she had left here in front of her.

Stubbornly, she raised her chin at Aleksina, whose dark eyes had turned stony in the torchlight. She wasn't sleeping either, then. So she did have a purpose.

"Why are you here?" Her whisper was sharp without adding any volume. It was the loudest one could possibly speak here without risking being heard, and yet her voice seemed to fade the minute the words left her lips.

Magessa's head popped up. Aleksina held her hand out for a moment of pause. Her voice was low, but cut through the stifling silence easily. "Why did you help those prisoners?"

"I asked first."

"Because Ludivine is a pure soul!" Magessa whispered quickly, rolling over with an unspoken shush in her eyes. "She would revive a fly if its heart still dared to beat!"

"Such a pure soul, to be lying here with the worms and maggots." Aleksina rolled her eyes in the shadows.

"I don't need your thoughts on my soul, self-proclaimed assassin." Ludivine sat up with dignity, keeping her movements to a minimum.

"I don't need a pure soul," Aleksina stated. Even in the darkness, something fierce flickered in her eyes, as she met Ludivine's gaze.

"So you are here for something," Ludivine said calmly. "Spit it out, then."

"Is your husband asleep yet?" Aleksina asked flatly.

"You aren't helping with that. But gods willing, he is." She did not like Samaan being brought into this-- even worse, this woman seemed to know exactly who he was and what he did. It only made her more guarded.

"As fun as it is to have new company," Magessa whispered softly. "I really do think we should speak efficiently. Not just because Ludivine likes that sort of thing. But because." She ended the sentence abruptly, as if proving her point. She waved to the glowing torches as she sat up, flashing a tense smile.

Ludivine smiled, for the first time since Aleksina had arrived. Just to prove she could be perfectly pleasant if the company around her was reasonable.

Aleksina stood, getting off the floor without much sound at all, and veered her head outside the bars, letting silence blanket the room once more. In the dim torchlight, Ludivine could make out Aleksina's fingers twitching, tapping each finger to her thumb, again and again.

After a nearly painful wait, Aleksina turned around. She fished a hand behind her, awkwardly shuffling around. Ludivine tensed, expecting a weapon. She drew in a breath, ready to shout at the tops of her lungs if a knife was revealed. Aleksina gingerly revealed her hands again, sensing the animosity. Dangling from one finger, clinking ever so softly from the movement, was a set of keys. Aleksina drew in a long breath. "I offer a choice, Ludivine Mosi. But," for a moment she was unsure with her words. Was this a moment of vulnerability? "Know that for us, there is no freedom as long as he lives."

Ludivine frowned, staring in disbelief at the keys. "Where did you get that?" she hissed.

"The gaurd's keys," Magessa whispered, staring wide-eyed.

"I have my ways," Aleksina said. "I don't need you to trust me. You'd be wise not to. I need to know," Aleksina hesitated, like she bit off what she wanted to ask. Instead, she held her hands out, offering the keys up. "Are you a pure soul?"

Ludivine hesitated, searching Aleksina's face for any hint of deception. Speaking or showing judgment wouldn't teach her anything, so she kept her expression calm with only the slightest bit of curiosity-- enough to convey she was listening, but not so much that she appeared won over. Yet.

"You're trying to break out and kill King Rhys." She almost dared not speak the words. "And you need help. Our help."

Magessa clapped her hand over her mouth so loudly her eyes became saucers. Shaking her head in both fear and apology, she bit down every word and noise to follow.

Aleksina stared daggers at Magessa, showing a sudden hostility that was absent in any of her previous interactions with the jester. The only sound that met them from outside the cell was a cough from somewhere down the hall. Aleksina nodded her affirmation. "The King is notoriously paranoid these days. Only people who met with him daily could deduce his location, even if they have been locked up for the past season."

Magessa looked to Ludivine, dropping her hand from her face to reveal a deep frown of revelation. She clasped her hands in front of her as she bowed her head.

"Well... you are right in two things," Magessa said, hushed and pouting. "I know his patterns like a dog knows their master. And unless he changes by some miracle, we will never be free." A pause. "I'm unlikely to receive his mercy for much longer, at risk of bruising his decisive reputation." As Magessa spoke, Aleksina kept her attention on Ludivine.

Ludivine tilted her head. It was getting harder to disagree with the prospect, given the alternative she faced, but something nagged at her still. She couldn't only think of herself.

"You can't be sure this will work," she reasoned. "This is a suicide mission to you. Suicide pact, if we all joined in."

"And this isn't?" Aleksina counter, looking around the cell.

Magessa's eyes saddened. The drop of her heart to her stomach was visible as her hand went over her belly, and her mouth curled to a deeper frown.

"Right a third time," Magessa said joylessly. "At least, for you and me."

Ludivine inhaled as deeply as she dared. Something told her that whether or not she agreed to pledge her aid, Aleksina would charge ahead anyway. Magessa might even too. The same line of thinking told her that as unlikely as the mission sounded, it presented a slim chance of success when all she'd ever seen was impossibility. Freedom from these four walls was one thing; freedom to live once more was another, and it could not happen while King Rhys drew breath. She didn't want to live alone, either. Samaan's liberty hung in the balance too.

Gods, was she becoming the sort of person to commit to treason on a whim? The idea felt foreign. But she didn't need the stakes-- or the ticking clock-- pointed out to her again. She was just as aware of what she had to lose as them.

"Alright." The words hung faintly in the air, kept aloft by the severity behind them. "I'll help you. But only on one condition."

Aleksina nodded gravely. "Name your price."

"My husband works upstairs." Ludivine hesitated-- it was a reasonable request, but would it look that way in the eyes of an extremist? "He will likely react to our escape out of duty, at first. I ask that you leave me to deal with him, and that you do him no harm."

"You deal with your husband, and I'll do him no harm," Aleksina said.

"And I'll have your backs," Magessa added with a curl of her fists. "You blast light, I attack. While the assassin skull-cracks."

Ludivine nodded, allowing herself a shred of relief. It was nothing but a spark, compared to the weight of what she'd committed herself to. But she held on to it all the same.

"In that case," she began. "What's the plan?"

When Samaan awoke, something was seriously awry.

The recent prisoner brought to Ludivine and Magessa's cell was no average rebel. From the moment the guards left with murmuring complaints of bite-marks and bludgeoning, Samaan noted the lone guard's protected silence. Surveillance in the keep wasn't just about what he heard: it was about what he didn't hear, and in a fit of moans over the dissident's struggle, one guard held his tongue.

The silence in the lower cells had been unnerving when he put his head down. Had the woman been put in any other cell, Samaan might've diverted his attention elsewhere, but when a violent resistor was put with his wife, he couldn't help but assume the worst when his eyes tore open to the sound of a throat's squelch.

He had made a mistake. He should've made a cup of coffee instead of resting his eyes. Now, his heart raced with panic as his ears reached to the lower level with gripping clarity, and everything collided in the clamor.

Ludivine's light feet were unmistakable. He'd fallen in love with their graceful rhythm, but now they were dancing past the winding cells behind Magessa's light pivots and the stranger's precise jabs. Somehow, in the sole hour he'd drifted off, a prison break was being attempted for the first time in his career: and it included his own wife, whom he had sworn to protect.

They plowed through the guards on the fifth level.

For a moment too prolonged, Samaan watched a bridge in his life burn behind him. Ludivine just made a decision she could never take back, and he didn't know how to shield her from the consequences. The building drumbeat of gurgling throats and grinding bones built in each second of indecision while the window of forgiveness grew smaller.

If Samaan didn't sound the alarm before they breached level four, he would be killed on sight with no remorse. He would be irrevocably complicit. Ludivine had to understand that in this attempt, she was dooming them both to die. Most of all him, especially if she succeeded.

Cursing, he held his head with one hand and reached over his desk. He grabbed the brass bell and rang it once. The clapper's violent reverberation provided all of the substance he needed, and with practiced, honed focus, he propelled the soundwaves through the vents, spinning them in a recycled, repeated cacaphony.

The alarm spread throughout Ebony Keep, and the tower would wake up in seconds. The noise blared over the din of clashing metals, shouts, and screams while the assasin's body burst through the 3rd level door with a harrowing snap. His head started to ache from the sudden strain - absorbing every hammered heartbeat as he let go of the final bell's toll.

Cries of agony down below echoed in his ears as men and women, levels below, begged for aid. It was far too late to send help, and that cost would be placed on Samaan's head.

He got to his feet as Ludivine rushed to his office. Before she could reach for the handle, he opened the door.

Flying in, she rammed into his chest so hard it took his breath away. He staggered back as she shut the door behind her, creating their first moment alone since Markel booked her.

By Syllor, it would be their last.

The guard's feet were a pounding waterfall overhead. The Warden's stomps were crashing waves on the move.

"Ludi," he whispered desperately. "What are you doing?"

Blood spattered her tunic, stark red against the faded purple, and his heart stalled for a moment before he realized it must've been someone else's. She was breathing heavily, but wasted no time in grabbing both his hands, meeting his eyes intensely.

"Samaan," she breathed. "Darling. Listen-- it's exactly what it looks like, and it's also not. This might be our only chance. There's no time."

The floor could've fallen out from underneath him, for how quickly he wanted to collapse. Samaan gripped her hands like anchors.

"My love, I'm sorry. I - you heard - you know -"

"I know," Ludivine soothed, running her thumb over the back of his hand. "If not you, then someone else would've. At least they're off your scent now."

"For now," he said, shaking his hands inside hers. "But you're here, and the Warden is coming, and I'm going to have to explain - how, how--"

He stumbled over his words as his mind halted, thrust against the wall of impossibility. There was no getting out of this. There couldn't be. If they fought past Massian, there was the watchtower, where Araya waited as the keep's Fire High Sorcerer. Ludivine would turn to ashes.

"Samaan," Ludivine said, with calm patience he couldn't fathom having right now. "Please. I don't have long. Can you heed what I'm about to say?"

Saaman could vomit his heart in his hands. He nodded.

"You'll have something to explain to them," Ludivine went on. "You'll be the hero who sounded the alarm, but got overwhelmed in the ambush. Can you imagine-- he stood up to his own wife, only for her to dishonorably knock him out in an unfair fight. He'll be commended for his loyalty. There was no way for him to know those same runaways would go on to..."

Here she paused, seeming to realize she couldn't say this part quite as lightly.

"Kill the king."

Her words sunk in with delay. Without meaning to, he'd silenced the din of the hall, so the softness of her voice became the only thing he'd hear. Whatever blood was shed behind his office door was being spilled from the bodies of voiceless guards.

This was no longer sedition, it was treason.

"Samaan." Ludivine squeezed his hands again, bringing him back to reality. "Don't mute them. You have a role to play, remember?"

It was a direct order. Samaan lifted his head along with the metaphorical blanket, smothering the noise. Suddenly, a scream tore through the hall and his head, louder than it should've been.

"I won't be the only one free after this." Ludivine swallowed thickly, her gaze turning pleading. "We'll both be free. A husband and wife, finally rid of the threat of the crown hanging over our heads, like we were meant to be. We're so close. I can feel it."

The Warden's footfalls trampled down the stairs. Samaan had to make a choice. There was no option to freeze.

"Please," Ludivine whispered. "Do you trust me? Can you please trust me?"

With a hard swallow, he pulled his hands from hers, and held her face, unsure if it'd be the last time he saw her. Too quickly, he kissed her, and said softly into her neck: "I trust you."

"Thank you." Ludivine breathed a sigh of relief, then focused, raising her hands to his temples. "I love you. I'm sorry."

"I love you too," he whispered.

He leaned his head against her shoulder. He knew what she was about to do.

In Vediatha, it was the first thing he learned in the academy. As a soundwave sorcerer, his ears were his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. Though his magic was intentionally attuned, over a decade of honed practice made it as passive as breathing. He heard everything, all the time, even when he wanted silence.

All it took was a blow to each ear to suspend reality entirely.

His inner ear felt like it shattered into a million pieces. Over-sensitive, over-worked, and throbbing, his whole body involuntarily collapsed like she'd just ripped out his spine. A distant awareness registered Ludivine's hands, catching his fall. His head hit the floor with light tap, but even that sent waves rumbling over his skull, akin to a fever. They were unforgiving as his bright, spotting vision turned every image into a blinding mass, and he wanted to vomit as much as he wanted to tear his ears from his head.

Whenever Ludivine left, it was too soon.

Too soon for him to ask more questions, too soon for him to say a better goodbye, and too soon to see her face one last time, even if it was full of sorrow.

The ringing in his ears became a roar so deafening, he wondered if he'd ever recover. His head weighed a thousand pounds, and with his face flush with the cold, stone floor, his present was eternity.

One droning pitch, and all his hope hinged on Ludivine's promise. He'd never felt the urge to pray until now.