Early morning
It's cold and the snow is whirling,
Like a warning, a promising fate,
But the king rests in peace on his sled.
Treason. The word was burned into Volke's mind. That was what he was about to commit, treason. 'The offense of acting to overthrow one's government or to harm or kill its sovereign', 'The betrayal of a trust or confidence; breach of faith; treachery.'
It all fell under one category, treason. Disloyalty, it was. Volke was disloyal to his country, his queen, and his friends. If Ike knew what he was doing, the man would pay him any amount of money to stop him. If Volke would refuse Ike's offers, Volke was sure the man would kill him personally.
Thinking about it, Volke would rather have a quick death by the hands of Ike than the torture he was going to face after this.
Hooves are pounding,
So many thoughts in his head,
All around him.
What if he knows?
He will never again go to bed.
Assassins didn't have morals. They were taught at a very young age to ditch them if they wanted to become successful.
Even with his lack of morals, Volke knew this was going to be hard. The punishment for treason was huge. Volke knew this. Especially killing a queen that was so loved by everyone. They would torture him if they caught him. That was obvious enough. Volke knew he had been quite fortunate, in a way. He hadn't felt true pain. Sure, he had taken hits while fighting in wars, but that couldn't even compare to the torture he had been told about.
Tales about assassins being dumped into boiling led weren't uncommon. Neither were tales about having their eyes stitched shut, being forced into Iron Maidens. Nailing them to boards and crosses, starving him. The torture was endless, or so he had heard. They wouldn't stop until death reached him. The punishment he would face would kill his soul before it dealt with his body.
He sighed to himself; he shouldn't have accepted the job. It was easily the stupidest thing he had ever done.
It was too late to go back, there was no other option.
Find him!
Run for your life,
Only promise, you'll find him.
Throw him in Boiling Led.
She looked so peaceful sleeping there. Her green hair was sprawled on her pillow. She didn't suspect a thing. Volke entered through the window, making sure not to alert any guards. Killing a queen was a lot more dangerous than anyone could imagine.
Volke had to bless his good luck, in some ways. The room hadn't been heavily guarded. Volke had Elincia's fighting skills to thank, in that case. Normally, any noble would have soldiers littering the area around their room, outside his or her windows, anywhere and everywhere, there would have been guards.
His only troubles had actually been getting Lucia and Geoffrey out of the castle. The assassin knew that if the siblings had been in the castle, they would've been at the queen's side. Geoffrey was the queen's husband, after all. If he had been at the castle, Volke would've had to deal with two people at once. Geoffrey and Elincia, like many couples, slept in the same bed, after all.
Then there was Lucia. After sleeping in the room beside the couple, the swordsmaster would surely hear Elincia or Geoffrey call for help.
Volke could deal with one person. In fact, Volke could probably 'deal' with two people from the army at once. Three was pushing it though, and attempting it would insure death for him.
Nail down the traitor
Cross over the ice.
Through the wind blows and the hate grows
Your thoughts will suffice.
Volke picked up his dagger. 'One slash,' he reminded himself, 'It'll only be one slash. She's just another person.' Of course, Elincia wasn't just another person. She would never be. Elincia was the queen, and a good one at that.
Volke heard steps coming from the hallway and he nearly dropped his dagger in shock. The assassin quickly faded into the shadows until the footsteps faded slowly. Volke sighed; it shouldn't have been this hard. Volke was a trained assassin. He was known for being in and out in less than five minutes on average.
He was acting as if he was an amateur all over again. Like it was his first kill, clenching the dagger and pretending he wasn't doing anything wrong.
On the runner
Steering the sled and the mare.
The assassin, full of suspense
With the king resting under the hide.
Volke then realized something; this was the first person he had killed that he had a semi-personal relationship with at some time. Although it hadn't be significant, just a couple of exchanged words on the battlefield once or twice. Still, it was more personal than the other people he had been in charge of dealing with.
The first person he had killed had been a bitter old man who everyone was happy was gone. Volke could still recollect every morbid detail of it. From gathering his daggers to having the man below him beg for his life, tears joined by blood after a single slash to the throat.
It had been a horrifying site, and in hindsight, Volke realized he had done quite a bit wrong. He had murdered the man in the middle of the day, rather than when the man should've been sleeping, at night. Volke was happy he hadn't been expected to kill a public figure, or someone people would actually care about death of.
Elincia's death people would care about. Not only would they care about it, they'd be mad about it. They'd be out for the head of whoever did it. They'd ensure his painful death.
Like a gunner
Hiding the axe in his coat.
Our dunner planning the deed
And he knows, he must follow his guide.
Goddess help him, did Elincia have to look so peaceful? Volke sighed, clenching his dagger. This was it; he had to do it before he felt even more reluctant. Volke approached her sleeping form, bent over, and quickly slit the queen's throat.
Find him!
Run for your life,
Only promise, you'll find him.
Throw him in Boiling Led.
Volke's eyes widened in shock; he'd done it. He'd killed the Queen of Crimea. He tried to move his legs but found them frozen in place with shock. He felt himself losing control of his hands and the dagger slipped out, falling onto the ground.
The assassin knew he had to escape quickly, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He could even hear footsteps coming from the hallway again. He guessed someone had heard the dagger fall.
Nail down the traitor
Cross over the ice.
Through the wind blows and the hate grows
Your thoughts will suffice.
He couldn't move, he really couldn't. Volke was frozen in his position, shaking. He couldn't blink, gasps of air coming out in raspy breaths. Someone would surely find him. Volke knew he was caught.
Nail down the traitor
Cross over the ice.
Through the wind blows and the hate grows
Your thoughts will suffice.
Geoffrey opened the door in horror. He had come home early from his rounds with the Royal Knights and was planning to surprise his wife in bed.
Nothing could have prepared him for the site he saw.
One hit,
One slash, one single blow.
The king,
The pain, the blood, the snow.
Elincia's throat was dribbling blood, her eyes were sealed shut, and her chest wasn't moving. Geoffrey could see Volke on the other side of the room. The blunette wanted to ask him, "Why?, but he already knew the answer.
Instead, Geoffrey settled for a simple, "Guards!"
Hooves are pounding,
So many thoughts in their heads,
Out to find him, sure to succeed
For their king and their leader is dead.
He didn't exactly resist once guards caught him. At this point, Volke was in such a state of shock that he would have hardly noticed if someone stabbed him in the side. His weapons were on the floor; there wasn't even any way for him to defend himself.
The guards dragged him away, but Volke didn't react whatsoever. They sealed him there for six months, gave him barely enough food and water to survive. He never once spoke out because of this. He couldn't bring himself too.
Volke knew he deserved every single painful minute.
Find him!
Run for your life,
Only promise, you'll find him.
Throw him in Boiling Led.
The noose was tied around Volke's neck, but he couldn't have cared less. In the past six months he had endured everything. His left eye was sewn shut, his right hand chopped off, and his feet dipped into tubs of boiling led.
Death would be an escape.
Through his healthy eye Volke could see almost everyone he had met during his travels watching. Mist, Naesala, Tibarn, Caneghis, Sanaki, Micaiah… Everyone was watching. Everyone was waiting. They all wanted him dead.
Geoffrey finished saying some words in the former queen's honor, and Volke knew it was time. He walked up the path slowly, knowing what was yet to come.
"Goodbye, Traitor." He whispered to himself.
Nail down the traitor
Cross over the ice.
Through the wind blows and the hate grows
Your thoughts will suffice.
---
A/N:
Boiling Led Lyrics and Song © Falconer
Fire Emblem © Nintendo