The throne room was a huge hall decorated elaborately in a myriad of colors. The walls were all embellished with tapestries depicting scenes from long ago: grand battles and hunts, chasing men and animals alike through forests of deep green and brown. Occasionally a statue stood against the wall also: marble men brandishing their swords, women so beautiful they could be nothing less than goddesses.
One in particularly caught Aida's eye; it was a woman with her hands folded and resting just below her chin and head bowed low. She was beautiful, flawless in shape and feature, but it was her expression that made her stand out. Her eyes were looking down and her mouth was drawn, but the corners were curled upward almost, and her eyes held both heartbreak and hope. Something about her seemed real, more than any of the great warriors. She was broken, but still had dreams.
Aida didn't have time to stare at her long, however, as she was ushered forward by the men at her back. They pushed her past without so much as a sideways glance at the furnishings. She turned her attention forward, to the room remaining in front of her. There were columns behind the throne that shone as pure gold and behind those were curtains of gauzy red and white.
She stopped observing the architecture when she saw the man seated at the throne, high upon the dais. Aaren. She'd known he'd be there, but actually seeing him still made her stop short. She still had so many feelings for him, both hate and love and confusion, most of all. She was pushed forward again and had to rush to keep up with Virth, who was neither phased by the grandeur of the room or the ruler within it.
They walked near to the front of the room, until they stood only a few feet before the dais. The two men in front of them parted before them and stepped away. Aida stood awkwardly, glancing at Virth who still stood tall and proud, meeting Aaren straight in the eye.
She felt a kick at the back of her knees, and she fell forward onto the first step. Virth did the same, with an annoyed glance backward at their guards.
Aida looked up again at the dais. There were two men seated on either side of Aaren, on smaller chairs, and two men also stood beside each one. One of the seated men was older, with a long beard mingling between silver and gold, so much so that it seemed to shimmer in the light, colors switching and mixing together.
The other seated man appeared to be the same age as Aaren, or perhaps a little younger. His appearance was very similar to Aaren but with darker hair and a more amused curiosity at the entire scene. His eyebrows were raised slightly and his lips twitched upward into a smile.
The standing men were both middle-aged. Aida recognized one of them; he was a herald who often brought proclamations to her village. The other carried many weapons: a long, heavy sword, along with many daggers at his waist. His face carried several scars scraping over his cheek and across his eye. She wondered what he'd gone through to get them.
After a moment, she looked back at Aaren. He was looking at her as well and met her eyes briefly, seeming to almost wince as he did so. He looked her over, eyes scanning from her head down to her toes, before back to her eyes. It was odd, like he was checking to be sure she was alright, but he was the one who'd hurt her the most.
She watched him, her gaze locked upon him until he met her eyes again. His lips tightened into a straight, thin line; his face almost looked pained. She wished he'd say something; she held her breath, waiting for him to speak. His eyes flicked away from her, over to Virth.
She let out her breath in a rush and looked down at her hands, remembering the warm way his hand had felt holding hers, before. She'd dreaded seeing him, but now that she did, she just wished he would take it all back and be her Aaren again, the way he was. It was pathetic, really, but she couldn't change the way she felt.
"Leave him kneeling there for his plea," Aaren was saying now. "Bring her up here; have her sit beside me."
His voice seemed to reverberate through the chamber, and the guards didn't hesitate to obey. They grabbed the back of her arms and pulled her up to her feet, then over to the dais. She made her way up the steps herself, and the younger man jumped out of his chair, to give it to her. He nodded pleasantly at her, even venturing a small smile.
She sat carefully in his seat, glancing nervously at Aaren.
He glanced at her, but didn't meet her eyes, only eying her and turning away again. He was ignoring her.
Aida looked back at Virth, still kneeling on the ground. He stared straightaway still, immovable and proud.
"Read his accusation," Aaren said mirthlessly.
The herald took a scroll from somewhere on his personage and held it up, unrolling it to its full length. He started in a loud and bold tone, "Virth Gideon, found in violation of the crown. Guilty of treason, proved to be plotting against the crown, guilty of theft of the king's property, interference with the king's orders, slaughter of the king's subjects, attempted murder of the king, destruction of the king's property..."
The list went on and on. Virth sat patiently through it all, carefully and calmly listening to the details of his crimes. Aida wondered what he was thinking. She wasn't sure how anyone could possibly have committed so many crimes, and she wondered if it was false. Virth looked so calm and accepting of it, though; she had a feeling it wasn't.
At last the herald stopped speaking, and Aaren waved his hand, raising his eyebrows slightly. "I don't have any idea what you can say against all that. But if you have a plea to make, Mr. Gideon, please, make it at once."
Virth looked at him for several moments. "Sir," he spoke at last, "I have no defense except this: that the crown is not yours and never has been. It belongs to no one in this room, no one even awake in our country. Any crimes I may have committed against you were therefore not against the crown and cannot be judged by it."
Aaren smirked. "Add insolence to his list then, and sentence him for a hanging."
Aida gasped. Aaren glanced at her, his face tightening with an almost worried expression, then quickly back to the herald who was reaching for a quill and ink. She turned to face Virth. He smiled pleasantly at her, seemingly not the least surprised. Well, he'd been counting down to it and relaxing. Still, she didn't see how he could be so at peace with it all.
"Well then, the sentence shall be carried out immediately," Aaren stood up, glancing at the men and Aida around him. "Come, all of you." He started down the dais, taking each step slowly at a leisurely pace. The men stood up and followed him.
Aida hesitated, still looking at Virth. She wanted to...she felt like she should talk to him, before he died, though she didn't know what she would say. He was watching her expressionlessly.
Aaren turned around quickly, snapping his head back to look at her. "Aida, come." His tone was hard and icy again, commanding her to listen to him, not allowing for any disagreement.
Virth nodded to her slightly, and she started forward, walking down the steps. She came at last to the back of the party, and they all started walking again. The guards followed slightly behind with Virth walking between them.
She found herself walking next to the younger man, who glanced down at her and smiled again. "I hope you don't mind His Majesty. I know he can seem rather overbearing, but he's not always like this. He can be quite pleasant if he chooses."
Aida opened her mouth, then shut it, looking awkwardly at the floor. She didn't know what to say, especially about Aaren. She'd thought she knew him so well, but she was finding she didn't know him at all. And this man, he spoke to her like she was...not a prisoner, but a sister almost or another member of the court.
"Oh, I suppose you already know that. You do seem to have something between the two of you. Were you once lovers and found yourselves in a quarrel?" he laughed then and shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to pry. I hope you and Aaren work it out, whatever it is."
Aida glanced up at him, observing him curiously. His manner was so different from the other men, all walking past her without so much as a second glance.
"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Count Rivion, but please, just Rivion. And what is your name?"
"Aida," she managed to say, hardly more than a squeak. Didn't he know...didn't he know who she was? Didn't they all? The other men avoided looking at her entirely, or if they did it was only a quick glance and then away again, not daring to keep their eyes on her for more than a second. They knew, probably. But Rivion, she wondered about him.
They walked down several hallways, all of them full of finery: old portraits and tapestries, statues of gold filigree. Finally they reached two huge arced doors. There were even more guards there, who flung open the doors for them as sunlight blasted into their eyes, bright and glaring, like an arrow of light shot at them.
There was a pavilion for them to sit on, with a throne in the middle, once again surrounded by smaller chairs for the rest of them. A few twenty feet in front of them was another platform, but this one was the gallows, with the long rope hanging down.
Virth was led there; Aida watched as they confiscated his coat, just as he'd suspected, and tied his hands behind his back. She was just taking her seat, beside Aaron and Rivion, as he stepped up to the platform. The guard behind him put the noose around his neck, fitting it tightly, forcing the knot down further and further, cutting into Virth's neck.
Aida took a breath, pursing her lips. She didn't want to watch. She thought about turning the other way; no one would stop her. But...perhaps that would be unjust of her. Virth had faced his death without flinching; she felt she should do the same. Maybe he would want her to bear witness to his death. She could tell his friend then, Alexander Alexander, more accurately what had happened.
So she watched. She watched as the wood he was standing on gave way beneath him. He dropped down, but not hard or fast enough. His neck didn't break, and he hung strangling there, strung up like something to dry, swinging like a rag doll. His feet kicked periodically, almost in spasms, forcefully pushing into the air. His face turned pale and drawn. Slowly, she able to hear choking noises as his air was cut off from his lungs.
She felt like crying and felt one small tear drip down her cheek. She glanced at Aaren beside her. He was watching without emotion, regarding the scene like an everyday occurrence, rather than the horror that it was. She looked to her other side, at Rivion. A delicate frown furrowed his brow slightly; he looked concerned, though not enough to act upon it. The other men were mostly the same, unmoved by the death they watched.
She glanced around her for someone, anyone who could stop it. There was no one, only the guards, who looked bored at most. A sob tore through her body, shaking her. She barely knew him, but even so, she couldn't stand watching him die. She didn't think she'd be able to watch anyone die; it was all too awful. She recalled him helping her to pick herself off the ground, his thoughtful expression as he regarded her, and she couldn't stand it. Those small, almost minuscule moments with him had gotten to her.
Rivion glanced at her and gave her a sympathetic look. "Was he a friend of yours?" he whispered quietly.
Aida didn't reply. She stared at Virth. He was staring back at her, his eyes eerily green and still. Occasionally, he'd blink, though, as he seemed to shiver all over and swing back and forth on the rope. He did it again. Her hands were trembling, tiny shakes forcing them back and forth. Virth stopped, as did her hands.
When he did it again, she noticed more. Her hands shook at the same time he shook, moving almost exactly the same way, in scale to his spasms, and they stopped in the exact same moment. Then he was still for a long time. She watched him carefully, eyes fixed upon him for any sign of movement. None came. He didn't blink, didn't lift a finger.
Aaren stood up. "It's done," he said with a resonant finality.
The other men stood up as well.
Aida stayed seated where she was, tears dripping freely down her cheeks. Vaguely, she was aware that someone was standing over her. She glanced up at Aaren. His hand touched hers briefly, and calmed her quivering.
"Aida, I'm...sorry," he said quietly, as tender as he'd ever been.
She looked at him, felt herself melting. She looked back at Virth. He swung slightly, but with the wind. It was too cruel. She pulled her hand forcefully from Aaren. "Get away from me!" she practically screamed at him.
His hand flew out, colliding with her face in an instant.
She winced as he turned away from her, walking the other way. She looked back at Virth, taking a sharp breath in. She wanted to hear that long story. She wanted him to live. Virth, please don't die. She shut her eyes.
There was white light all around her and a kind of soft, calming melody drifted over the breeze. The sun was warm all around her, shining from all directions it seemed. There were lilacs and daisies, all kinds of wildflowers in the green field she stood in. The sky was sapphire and not blotted out by any smoke or buildings. The land was pure and untainted.
There was a crashing sound and a thud. She opened her eyes and saw that the gallows was practically broken in half, apparently from Virth's fall. He was lying on the ground. The rope was broken, severed in the middle.
Faster than anyone could even turn to look, Aida ran, avoiding the rising commotion behind her, the men starting to speak and shout. Her legs carried her swiftly over the distance, cutting it in half and half again until finally she was there.
"Virth," she knelt beside him and loosened the knot around his neck, before flinging the rope away.
He looked up at her, his gaze thoughtful again. "My, you are innocent. I've never seen that before." He got to his knees and then to his feet, looking back at the pavilion.
"What do you mean, I'm 'innocent'? You keep saying that!" Aida said, practically shouting at him. She was glad he was alive, but his intellectual approach to...well, everything, was beginning to annoy her. "And what just happened anyway? Did you...cut the rope down, somehow?" She didn't see how it could be her doing, though that seemed to be what he was insinuating. She was too far away!
The guards were running towards them.
Virth grinned at her, an amused expression coming across his face. He almost looked like he was laughing at her. "I'm not that innocent. As to your other questions...once again, I don't have the time or will to answer them. If we were planning on living much longer, and it would be a waste not to, considering that I was very nearly just dead, then we really should be going somewhere less violent."
Aida glanced back at the guards. They were halfway to them; within a moment they'd be there. Some of them had their swords out, held outward and pointed at them; others only held rope. She froze, with maybe even more horror than she'd felt when they'd forced her out of the cell, to the trial and to Aaren. Now there was the terror of the dark and the cutting, but also Virth's hanging. She couldn't face either one again. "Is there anything you can do?" she asked, glancing backward at Virth.
He rolled his eyes at her and reached his arm out, placing his hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm and pressing down tightly, reassuring. "Close your eyes," he whispered harshly, close to her ear now.
She obeyed, and they stood in a land of shades of grey.
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