The ground was red. The red flowed across the stones of the floor, seeping into cracks as it went. The blood was still warm from the body it had just left moments before. Unlike on most days, the blood was allowed to spill unhindered. While some might call it a sloppy piece of work, its artist knew differently. The blood was to serve as a visual aide to the rest or the warning. When there is a silent and clean corpse, the message is not always made clear. The girl bent down and wiped the blood on her hands off on the dead man's shirt. The same was done with her knife. Silently, she sheathed the spelled blade. Her normal weapon of choice was her own hands, but special cases called for special exceptions. The assassin carefully drew a smaller dagger to cut away the fabric on the man's torso. Once the area over his heart was clear, she drew out a curious piece of metal. It appeared to be a brand of a single track of an animal. With a flick of her wrist and a murmured word, blood from the ground snaked up through the air to settle on the metal. It was with a determined expression that the girl pressed it delicately onto the bare skin. Her work completed, she said the same word from before, this time causing the blood on the metal to flow back onto the floor. The mark on the dead man's chest stood out bright and red, in the shape of a fox's paw print.
Sighing, Vivien pulled herself out of her saddle. The ride, no matter how often she did it, from the castle to Dras Leona and back always took a toll on her. There was something about the roads, darkness and the haste with which she always had to travel that made it a pain. Very rarely was anything truly gained by her trip, either. Her father liked to say that there was, but scaring rebels and lords was not of any interest to her. It wasn't something she regretted doing, however. Anything to gain trust and standing in his eyes was worth whatever aches she might have. She was late arriving back, so no standing would be gained tonight. If she was lucky, it would not be lowered, either, but she was rarely lucky. The eighteen year old winced as the harsh voice of a herald broke the silence of the tables.
"Princess Vivien!" the boy bowed formally, but very briefly, seemingly he had an important message. "The king wishes you to know he is displeased with you, but requests your presence in the Chamber. He said you would know where to go," the youth finished nervously, most likely expecting to receive a slap for being so vague. Vivien did know where to go, just as she knew it was not a request that she attend to her father, it was an order.
"Thank you," she waved her hand to dismiss him. Heralds were always nervous when they took messages in between royal parties at odd hours. Vivien stalked out of the stable, breaking into a run when she entered the castle proper. The easiest route to the Hall of the Soothsayer was through the throne room, even though it meant she would have to creep past Shruikan. The old dragon would burn her, at the very least, if she woke him from his slumber. He did not take kindly to anyone, not remotely, so Vivien had learned to stay as far away from him as possible or to take a guard in with her. The guard generally did not like to go in there with her, but it was better him than her, as far as she was concerned. Guards could always be replaced; princesses could not.
Approaching the booby trapped path to the room, she slowed. It took care to navigate the traps that lay here. In all honesty, Vivien doubted there was a way to get through without activating them. As she had come at it from a side tunnel, she had passed several of them, but the route she normally took would have been much safer. Deciding to go the direct way she normally avoided could prove difficult or fatal, but so would the King's wrath if she was any later. It was odd, him calling her to the Hall. He had never doubted her allegiance to him, with good reason, and normally it was only used for political prisoners. Vivien was sure she would have heard about capturing a prisoner, she had only been gone a few days. The king had been moody lately, what with the Varden's defeat of his precious Urgal army. That the little farm boy had killed his pet Shade also ruffled the old man's metaphorical feathers. Vivien took a deep breath, then backed up and took a running leap onto the floor. She swore as an arrow grazed her arm; she would have to heal it soon since the chances of it being poisoned were greater than her chances of not getting punished by the King. Knowing what would come next, she dropped to her side, barely sliding underneath the great blades that filled the next several feet. The princess was lucky that she was smaller and quick; if almost any man had tried what she had just done he would be dead.
With a relieved sigh, Vivien made it to the doors of the throne room. Quietly, she pushed the doors open, just enough to slip between them. They had a habit of creaking if you opened them too far or too quickly. Any noise could wake the sleeping dragon in the back of the room. Stepping lightly, she all but ran across the giant room to the other side where yet another tunnel lay. Hearing a snort and a growl behind her as she ran, Vivien dove headfirst into the tunnel. The princess used language not suited to her class as she felt her boots catch fire. She jumped up to stamp it out, glaring back at the mouth of the tunnel. Shruikan would not attempt to harm anyone after they left his area, but she never knew if the giant would change his ways one day and decided to pursue. A few yards down the tunnel was a guard, carefully controlling his facial features. Glaring, Vivien recognized him. He was an old timer, around since long before her. For all his time in service to the Empire, he always was kind to anyone; provided, of course, that they were doing their job. Vivien had seen him training new recruits in the practice field, and learned much to her shock that the man had a temper. She ignored him now, resuming her frantic sprint down the passage.
Skidding to a halt, Vivien brushed off her clothes quickly, trying to have some semblance of propriety before knocking on the door and entering. The first thing she saw once her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the area was that the chair the King normally sat in during theses sessions was empty. Vivien's heart froze in her chest, taking it as a bad omen. She had been hoping that she wouldn't be late enough for him to start without her. There seemed to be no end to her failures today, as she knew he would see it. No tears would be appearing on her face; to cry would make everything worse. A mask descended over her features, the mask she wore when she was working. Gone was the sweet princess the majority of the population knew her as; now the beautiful features hosted a cold expression of someone else, a foreign woman no longer a girl. The mask was being used more and more frequently.
"Finally," a cold voice said, the figure not turning away from the table in the middle of the room. Vivien did not even flinch; she was used to it. "I see that you also managed to wake Shruikan, congratulations, girl, you have gone past your quota of failures for the day." Vivien did grit her teeth at his last words and his form of address. It was obvious that he was in no mood for anything besides his own perfect behavior. The girl stalked into the room to kneel in front of him, one knee raised, her head bent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the backhand coming but did not have to time to avoid it. "Don't waste time," Galbatorix growled, clearly choosing to ignore the fact that he would have been mad if she hadn't bowed. "We recently had an old guest visit, your favorite." Vivien stood up slowly with dread at the smirk both in his voice and on his face, wiping the blood from her cut cheek; having a sinking feeling she knew who was lying on the stone table. Blood dribbled into her mouth, the King had decided to keep his rings on for the session.
"Him?" she whispered, edging closer. Vivien looked over the King's shoulder while standing on her toes, having no desire to get nearer to anyone subject to torture. It caused some to lash out violently. If the man on the table was who she thought, her dreams of finally meaning something to the King were shattered beyond repair. She hissed out when she realized it was indeed him. "Why is that bastard back?" Vivien asked through gritted teeth.
The king chuckled, "some of our people found him." His mood had improved with her reaction, she noted bitterly, judging by his using of the word 'our' instead of 'my.' It was occasionally a good sign, but in this case Vivien would be much happier that he not be so happy. Visits from the past were rarely good, especially form him. her life was going to slowly fall into nothing, meaning less than it did already.
A/N hello! Thank you so much for reading, I love all of my readers, even the silent ones! Who do you think it is? O.O it might not be actually that much of a guess for some of you, but you guys are just too smart for your own good.