"So...what happens now?"
His words rang through the throne room, as did the sound of fingernails tapping against mechanical iron.
The Empress of Cyclonia turned to gaze upon the young man, the vibrant blue of his weapons hummed as they hung low by his sides. There was time enough to try and fathom how this happened, that the fruition of her tireless strategies and efforts had led to this. Her lips tried to weld shut as she went to say the words.
"It's over, Aerrow. You are victorious."
There events that followed were doused in her apathy. First she recalled being escorted back to the Condor.
Met with disbelieving gazes, some afraid, some angry but all cautious. The imperators previously scathing stare now just fell blank as she went numb in the furthest reaches of her mind. Letting the journey to Atmosia, pass by. It wasn't until she stepped off the ship did the Empress ponder a life missed, the sun stung her eyes and the crisp air felt foreign in her lungs. However it seemed pleasant in comparison to the cheers that rung out along the streets they walked. Men, women and children, all shouting praise to the prodigal knight who had ended the war.
Soon enough, the great Master Cyclonis stood before the council as they rattled off her long list of crimes against humanity and to the Atmos. She never wasted her breath, it would be a disgrace to deny her impressive court resume and equally futile to fight whatever sentence they decreed. However, it was Aerrow's words that swayed their deliberation from execution. As if it would be any different to wasting away in a cell.
Next she was processed, from riches to rags as it went. Fitted with a new jumpsuit, the former Empress sat through another pointless trial, this one of the mind. Psychologists, members of the Storm Hawks, all attempted a cliche rehabilitation routine. The only reaction she illicited was during Piper's turn,
as her knuckles turned white under the table. No answer she could give them would suffice, nor undo the havoc she'd wrecked in her rule. It was all just a political facade to save face.
Now, she sat in silence upon a dressing room chair. Today was the grand festival to celebrate the wars' end and the villainess herself was scheduled to attend. It would be the final time she could see the outside world, so when the invitation came, she quietly accepted. Aerrow mentioned something about easing the minds of the precious Atmosian people. Disrobed entirely, the fallen Empress kept perfectly still, eyes shut. While the flurry of female artists tended to her face, the churning of a fabric table beside her as any imperfections upon her clothes were mended. They said it was best not to wear them during the make-up process anyway. A few moments later, the door opened, a few greetings passed before the set of boots stopped beside her,
the artists shifting as they started the wings of her lashes.
"You know, look a lot less scary without that cloak Cyclonis"
In her given situation, she delved over a few suitable reactions to give in a situation like this, but as Aerrow's gaze and words fell upon her, she decided that keeping up her cold indifference would suffice.
"Why are you here, Aerrow?" The words as bare as her chest. There really was no point in modesty, it would hardly be fitting for one with a crime spree of her caliber to pull a rights lecture. Eyes still closed, the irises rolled under their lids. The red head's momentary delay proved that he was still a male under all the self righteousness.
"I guess old habbits die hard, I keep expecting to find you blasting people with a crystal" He explained, uttering a small laugh that still hinted at worry. The words did however bring the slightest turn to her lip, her naked chest heaving softly as she repressed a smug snicker, realising full well she was in no position to pull one off let alone the grim reality she was actually in being quick to weigh upon her shoulders as a reminder. Suddenly,
one of the assistants raised her lithe leg to fit it with a knee high sock, following another, then an article to adorn her hips. Lastly, her bra. Albeit before a hand curiously cupped at her left breast.
"Are you sure she needs one of these? Until now I kind of didn't realise she had any" Aerrow laughed rather playfully,
whether it was knowing he could get away with this little humiliating stunt and live or he was still just a fool that was amused by his own quips. Either did nothing to ease her boiling nerves about the reality of her breast being shaped under the Sky Knight's palm. Cyclonis kept her composure, stripped of her power, pride and people, this was all she could keep.
The next few hours would be spent at the celebration. The former ruler understood she was much a guest as an attraction, a spectacle for all to see as countless lined up to take a picture of the crystal witch, adorned with her regal cloak alongside an all too happy red headed Sky Knight, who gave a jovial thumbs up expression with every photo.
Escorted by the fool in blue constantly, Cyclonis did take what time she could to memorise the sky and how she had once filled it with such dread. Fond memories. Although, had it not been for Aerrow, she felt like she might have even enjoyed herself, even if she did want to turn a few 'pro-contact' guests to ash. Events like this, even interacting with civillians had never even crossed her mind during her reign. She had time enough to reflect upon what bizarre shifts in persona a dozen life sentences can bring out in a person. In fact, she wondered if her throne room was truly going to be different to her cell.
Next Chapter, the finale. You really didn't think you'd get the juice of the lemon in one squeeze did you?