Chapter XXXIII: The Hearing
Moria Vadorian sat alone in her cell, as she had done so often in the past days. Occasionally, she would rise from the low shelf of Eternium ore designed to be a type of bed, and move over to the ovular patterned bars. She did so now, making not a sound as her booted feet impacted over Eternium floors. The Dereskian Queen gazed silently out of her barred door, not really looking at anything in particular, and not focusing on anything at all. She stood there motionless for quite some time; her mind busy while her body was not, for as her physical form stood caged like a wild beast, Moria herself was far from caged in consciousness.
Once Randor and Man-at-Arms had realized that she meant to go with them of her own accord and without making a fuss, it was a fairly simple affair to get out of the Sands of Time and back to Eternos. Before boarding the Wind Raider of the Masters that would take her to the capitol, Moria had taken a last, sorrowful look of what had once been her home, and stepped aboard. She knew she would never see it again.
She said nothing the entire way to Eternos, which was well, as Randor and Man-at-Arms did not ask anything of her, and when they arrived and led her to her cell, the only movements that Moria made were those of her feet. Those Eternians who had seen them pass would never again forget the moment. Their eyes fell upon Moria Vadorian, the Dereskian Queen, and they lived to tell the tale. She did not look at them, even when the gathering crowd began to jeer at her.
True, she could have killed them all where they stood, or frozen them in place while she made them watch as she destroyed their homes and kingdom, but she did not. Moria walked on, her head held high like the queen she was, her long white hair fluttering in the breeze as she moved towards her cell.
The few Eternians who dared look at her face would remark later at how utterly emotionless she seemed to be. Her eyes, usually filled with light and motion, lay empty and dull upon her face. She carried herself well, it was true, but this was probably more out of habit than anything else.
It was only when the doors of her cell closed behind her and the two robotic guards posted that she made any indication of life at all. She walked all the way to the back of her cell, and placed her hands on the solid wall, closing her eyes and sighing almost inaudibly as she whispered the barest hint of words.
"Moritënia… please understand…."
Deep within the Sands of Time, Evil-Lyn let out yet another scream of frustration as she sat in her mother's chamber. She through aside the book she had been looking at, and brought her hands upwards, wrenching the short locks of her hair as she screamed. She sat down hard on her mother's rarely used bed, her eyes closed as she vented her anger, tears of mixed feelings flowing freely down her cheeks.
Gradually, she let go of her hair and took great, panting breaths, lifting up her head slowly. Her eyes were red with the crimson color of her tears, and her lips were set in a state of mixed betrayal and anguish. She got off of the bed and went again to the bookshelf, glancing at each title of the ancient tomes. Many lay scattered over the floor, having already born the brunt of her torment at not finding what she was looking for. Grabbing another few books, Lyn sat down at the desk that now looked like a hurricane had passed through.
Opening each book to random pages, she flipped through the aged parchments, looking for something, anything, to explain her mother's actions to her. With an angry howl, she pushed one of the books to the floor, and turned to the next.
"There has got to be something here!" She exclaimed to no one, giving up on that book as well and thumping her elbows onto the table, grasping her hair once more as she let her red tears flow down her face onto the yellowed pages.
"Morämé!" She howled, sobbing angrily. "Tell me why! I demand that you tell me why-y!" Her voice cracked, strangled by yet another sob as her head slipped through her hands and fell onto the table. She cried openly as she had not done since she was a child, curses and pleads in mixed languages falling from her lips as her strangled cries filled the sandy region.
Even as she cried out, she could almost swear she heard her mother's voice in the air, asking her to understand, to recognize that she had given herself up for a reason.
Lyn screamed at the voice, berating it and asking, hoping that it would say more. But the sound, if it was even ever there, faded into nothingness, and left Moria's daughter alone with thousands of unanswered questions. In a howl of rage, Lyn took the book nearest to her, grasping it angrily in her hands and preparing to hurl it across the room. As her arms raised, she looked up at the page the book was opened to, and immediately stopped. Her eyes opened wide, and she slowly lowered the book, placing it down on the table as she studied the page more closely. As she read the words inscribed on the page, she realized that her grandmother, Allesena, had written it.
Ie hach otë ti uair, qui proo cuivië ais caillt, ti Morämé amoriezie por deanae saor proo.'"
\\\'It was in that hour, when all hope seemed lost, that a mother's love for her child love was found to redeem all.'\\\
Moritënia closed her eyes for a long moment as a single red tear slid down her cheek, remembering the time, not so long ago, when her mother had uttered those same words to her. As the memory of their joined healing of Skeletor faded away into her mind, Lyn's eyes suddenly snapped open. She caressed the yellowed page in her hand gently, almost lovingly, and cradled the book against her chest.
"…She knew…" she whispered softly, into the darkened room around her. "Mother knew that I would need her all along…. She gave herself to protect me…. She knew…." The words echoed around the room for a long moment, and Lyn found herself resting on her mother's bed, cradling the book her mother's mother had written. She lit a single candle, and then found herself flipping back to the very beginning of the same book, and reading over its contents. It began with an introduction, and a letter.
This is the tale of Alessena, the thirteenth Queen of the Dereskian people, and of the love, and hatred, between two peoples.
My sweet 'Lessa,
The thought of you is so familiar and constant upon my mind that any distraction but even for a moment leaves my heart wanting and wishing for your return. You have my heart overflowing with desire for your presence. If for nothing more than a soft kiss upon your hand or a touch upon your cheek, I want. The thoughts created from within your mind amaze me. Hours, years and lifetimes of light and in depth conversation could be enjoyed between us. From the beauty of a summer's day or the color of your eyes to the folding of time and space or the beginning of a new life, I could be absorbed in sharing thoughts, ideas and dreams with you forever and beyond.
To hear your voice elates me. The thought of you makes me smile. The thought of you unhappy just as easily crushes me. You have affected me in so many ways. It seems that my heart has nearly come to the point where my mind has no words to relay the passion felt within. A fire grows daily. From wanting, to desiring to needing and more. Yes, much more.
Each morning as I rise and each night as I lay my mind returns to you. And throughout the day I anticipate the chance to hear your voice and to see you coming, walking anywhere, everywhere, and always on a path that leads you to me.
Yours always,
Zeena
And thus it went on through the night, as pages turned into new volumes of old and glorious tales, stories of Alessena melding into those of Moria, that when the morning came, Lyn knew exactly why it was the her mother had been spending so much time with the Sorceress recently.
The Next Evening
When the sun had at last traveled beyond the apex of the sky, the sound of footsteps became audible to a certain imprisoned queen. Her hair was draped over her shoulders in a loose braid, falling down her back in an orderly cascade. She was facing away from the doorway, but knew who it was that had just entered the chamber from the various clicks of footwear on the floor. He-man was there, together with Man-E-Faces, Ram-man and what sounded like ten of the prison guard. The sound of multiple feet ceased just outside the door to her cell, as Moria knew it would. She did not bother to actually turn her head until one of them bothered to speak to her.
"Your Highness," Man-E-Faces said quietly, in a voice that at least attempted respect, insomuch as actor could attempt it. "The court of Eternia calls you forth for your hearing. By our laws, you have the option to represent yourself and be in attendance, or to remain here while someone speaks for you. We will not push you toward either decision, and a fail trial will be held in either occasion."
A slow turn of the head, the slightest glare of her eyes, and several of the prison guards took a step back. The Queen of the Dereskígía gradually got to her feet and approached the bars at her own pace. She stopped a little before actually reaching the door, as if she chose the distance. Regarding the men before her almost predatorily, she took a long moment before saying anything. "Do you honestly think any Eternian would fairly represent me in a hearing?" she asked, a tiny smile on her lips. "Do you truly believe that an Eternian court will not have already formed a bias against me?" Her voice was raspy from disuse, and it made her already cold words bone-chillingly uncanny. She chuckled without mirth, her eyes speaking volumes as she slowly finished, "Any trial you could give me will not be fair, no matter what anyone says, so do not waste my time with pretenses."
A stunned silence filled the air as her words echoed into the room. The guards looked around nervously while He-man seemed to falter for the briefest moment before responding quietly. "You're right. There will be unfair biases no matter which choice you make. But that does not change the fact that a hearing has been scheduled. I would not waste your time if it was otherwise."
Amethyst eyes settled slowly on blue as Moria regarded the protector of Grayskull's power. She seemed to weigh her options for a moment, her eyes never leaving those of the blonde hero. He-man, to his credit, did not look away, despite feeling a strong urge to do so. Finally, Moria seemed to reach a verdict in her mind, for her eyes began to shine with a little of their old fire. "My future is assured whatever choice I make," she chuckled softly, finding the situation funny for some odd reason. "But since no one will be able to explain my rationale better than myself, it seems it would be a wise idea for me to be in attendance. I will go," she stated simply, and waited for the doors of her cell to part as the guards raised their weapons in case she tried anything. The Dereskian could not help but chuckle at that, as it was hardly fear of these weapons that kept her contained within the cell.
The cell opened and she stepped out, looking every inch the regal queen she was, with her head held high and her hair sweeping over her back. She paid the guards that surrounded her no mind, stepping in time with He-man as he allowed her to move in front of him, as her position was wont. Moria smirked a little as they stepped out of the prison complex and into the brightness of the afternoon sun.
As soon as it became obvious that Moria Vadorian was being escorted around Eternos, a crowd quickly began to gather around them. The Ancient Dereskian paid the jeers and verbal rebukes that followed no mind, letting her demeanor speak for her as she stepped calmly, the epitome of composedness. It was only when the mob began to throw things at her that any change was evident. At first, she merely stepped out of the way of the hurled objects, or allowed them to be blocked by the guards that now encircled her. As the number of objects, first various types of vegetables and then stones, began to increase in number, however, the Ancient Queen sighed and knew that this would not be acceptable. The guards were beginning to get mildly injured by the rocks that the mob threw. He-man was doing his best to calm the angry crowd, but they did not seem to be listening. Finally, Moria raised her hand in the direction of the blonde man, and locked her gaze with his while she spoke to him mentally. Allow me, she said in his mind, her eyes beginning to dance with flame. I promise I won't hurt them, she added as an afterthought, just as a reassurance for the hero.
He-man looked uncertain, until one of the stones thrown struck a guard in just the right spot on his head and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Man-E-Faces rushed to his aide, while Ram-man began to (gently) knock the crowd away with his head. Only when it seemed that further violence was the single remaining option did He-man look in the direction of the Ancient Queen. The minute nod of his head was barely visible, but Moria saw it just the same, and a thin crack of a smile slid over her lips.
Whispering an incantation to the wind, she closed her eyes for the briefest moment. A lavender light seemed to emanate from her form, and almost instantly, the crowd began to quiet. Clouds that had not been there seconds before filled the skies, sending the area into darkness, broken only by the eerie light that stemmed from the Ancient Queen. With what sounded like thunder, her eyes burst open, flashing pupil-less in violet fire as Moria allowed her wings to rip forth from her back. She spun upwards into the air, her arms outstretched, almost as if the wind itself were embracing her. With another crack of thunder, the crowd decided that throwing stones was no longer a major priority, and the individuals rushed away like scattering sheep, terrified of this woman out of their nightmares.
As quickly as they had come, the clouds vanished into the sky, almost as if they had never been. The Ancient Queen's eyes returned to normal, and the light that derived from her quickly melted away into nothingness. Her feet once again touched upon the ground, and only then did Moria bother to look over at He-man and the other Masters. They stood almost stupefied, as if they had assumed that the Dereskian was no longer capable of wielding power since being in their custody. She smiled almost sweetly at them, and at the frightened guards around them, and then began to walk forward once more, as if nothing had happened. She did not bother to slide her wings back into her shoulders, but left them out as a reminder to the Eternians.
When He-man and the others had once again regained their senses, the blonde behemoth rushed forwards, catching up with the white-haired woman as the others ran to do the same. "That show of theatrics was hardly necessary, your highness. There were other ways to get rid of the crowd without frightening them to death, " He-man said quietly to the Queen.
"True, but this way was far more entertaining," Moria replied amusedly. She slowed her pace as the guards once again got in formation around her. "Besides, He-man," she replied quietly, glancing at the hero, "I utterly despise being predictable."
A momentary silence fell over the Master as he simply walked alongside the powerful woman. "That little act of terror won't help you convince anyone that you are not a threat to society," he finally said, looking towards their destination, which was not all that far away now.
Moria chuckled a little, causing the protector of Grayskull to look her way once more. "My fate is assured either way, don't you recall?" she queried, not expecting an answer. Her eyes were focused on the way ahead of her and not the man beside her as they walked. "Nothing that I do or say, whether in that hall or out on these streets, will change the verdict that was decided from the moment of my 'capture.' What point is there, then, in pretending to be anything less than who I am?"
He-man could find nothing to say in answer, and the rest of the walk was made in silence as the Ancient Queen stepped ever closer to what was certainly condemnation.
The clatter of hushed voices fell to a deadly silence as the doors to the building opened. As if on cue, dozens of pairs of eyes locked on the open doors, watching apprehensively as He-man entered the foyer first. His massive form filled the doorframe, making it impossible for anyone to see if the Dereskian Queen had actually chosen to come. When he finally stepped away to reveal the white haired woman, more than one gasp of exclamation was audible throughout the room.
Moria stepped forward gracefully, regally; her wings spread out behind her back as her loose hair fluttered in the breeze before falling around her shoulders as she entered. King Randor and Duncan were at the back of the room, the former seated on an elaborate chair on a slightly raised dais. Evidently, the king was to be presiding over the affair. Duncan stood next to him, poised with his mace easily accessible in case she should try anything. From the glower on his face, it was evident that he was to be the prosecutor.
No wonder he looks so sour, the Ancient Queen thought to herself as she approached the back of the room, unbidden. It would have been much easier from him to convince the people of my guilt if I were not here to represent myself. The tiniest glimmer of a smile fell across her features, and then vanished like smoke in the winds as she finally reached the back of the room. She could feel dozens of eyes on her as she came to a stop before Randor's dais.
The guards that had accompanied her now scattered, taking places at all corners and sides of the room, and six of them moved to flank the King's chair, weapons at the ready as she stood there quite calmly, her wings shifting slowly to rest straight behind her, the feathers of the left one nearly touching the ground.
Silence ruled over the room and not the monarchs, as the eyes of the Ancient Queen fell upon those of the King. Time stood still for a long moment as their majesties locked in a minimal battle of wills, before finally Randor bowed his head respectfully, and then Moria did the same. Even after that obvious tension had settled to a more comfortable disquiet, the room was as silent as a tomb. An appropriate comparison, Randor thought to himself before he stood from his chair, using the advantage of height given to him by the dais as he looked down at the queen.
"Your Majestic Highness, Lady Moria Vadorian," he said, loud enough for the entire room to hear him. As always, there was a silence after the name as various Eternians felt a shudder run down their spines. Even now, the true name of the Dereskian Queen was something that was just not said amongst civilized Eternians. After the small amount of tittering and gasps was over, Randor continued with the title list that he had obviously spent some time rehearsing. "Queen of the Dereskígía, Fourteenth Monarch of the Children of the Moons, Last Queen of the Third Age, and Avatar of Eläni the Light-Bearer…" here Randor paused for a breath, and Moria raised her eyebrows at the fact that he had actually managed to pronounce the words correctly. "You stand before the people of Eternia today charged with the premeditated, cold-blooded murder of two thousand, five hundred and eighty-seven members of the Eternian people. How do you plead to this charge?" he asked as he again took his seat, reciting the figure and the question as if reading it from a very dull book.
Throughout his introduction, the Ancient Queen had not moved, and her expression had never wavered from the impassive, unreadable face that she was so well known for wearing. Now her lips parted, her eyes beginning to pinwheel ever so slightly as the tiniest bit of amusement entered her tone, so little as to be almost unnoticed. The one hundred odd people in the room leaned in a little closer to hear the denial that all knew would come from those lips, and all of them were shocked by what they actually heard.
Moria's eyes never wavered from those of the king, even as she felt more than heard the 'audience' lean forward to hear what she said. She purposely made her words clear and easily understood when she drew in a breath and said simply, "Guilty."
Randor nodded, eyes on a paper before him as he began the next section immediately. "Very well, present you defen–" he broke off, his eyes widening as his head rose, staring at the white haired woman. "What did you say?" he questioned, speaking for everyone present. Even Duncan looked shocked at the answer Moria had given.
"I plead guilty, your Highness," the Ancient repeated, her tone quiet but understandable, her words spoken with respect as she spoke with her eyebrows slightly raised.
The room took on a discomforting aura of shock and dread, uncertainty buzzing around everyone's mind as they gazed in surprise at the woman on trial. Moria remained calm, not moving so much as a hair or feather as she waited for Randor to adjust to her decision.
Finally, Randor swallowed visibly, his fingers gripping the armrests of his chair before he forced them to relax, sitting up even straighter than before and looking carefully at the woman before him. "…You realize that is highly …unconventional," he said quietly, trying to find a word that would not make it appear that he was trying to persuade her to change her mind.
"I will not deny that I ended the lives of those Eternians," Moria responded factually, trying and succeeding in not making that last word sound like a curse. "Even if I do not consider those actions to be crimes," she finished, accenting the final word with a rise in volume.
Duncan stepped forward from beside the King, glancing at Randor for a moment before beginning his questioning without bothering to wait for the proper time in the usual proceedings. If Moria was permitted to bend the rules of a hearing, then he was as well, he told himself. "What do you consider them, then?" he nearly growled, his eyes glaring at the white haired woman.
"Justice," the Queen replied, turning her head to look at the mustached man, her own eyes beginning to pinwheel faster, a sign of irritation.
A surprised gasp from members of the crowd spurred Duncan on as he began to circle the accused woman, as was custom. "Justice!" he exclaimed in indignation. "Killing nearly two thousand six hundred innocent men is justice!"
Lady Moria did her best to suppress the growl that was rising in her throat, and forced a reply in a slightly louder voice than the one she had been using. "They were far from innocent," she said through clenched teeth, taking a deep breath before continuing, a little calmer. "Those two thousand men were responsible for the wrongful deaths of over six hundred thousand Dereskian men, women, and children, unarmed and incapable of protecting themselves. Those men," she continued, practically spitting the word out like a curse, "entered into the caves and utterly exterminated them. They massacred defenseless children." she exclaimed, her voice taking on a desperate tone that called to the heart of every mother or father in the room, including Randor's. "Was I to stand by and do nothing?" The Ancient Queen had never had to defend her actions to anyone besides Teelina, and the combination of being in a room with this many people and the heated accusations of Man-at-Arms were putting her on edge.
The mustached man seemed unfazed by Moria's passionate speech, and instead grew louder, almost angry that she dared to say anything for herself. "You killed in cold blood, continuing to kill up to two hundred years after the destruction of your people. They killed because they were ordered to! It was a war!"
"Then why is it not called one in the 'history' books that you teach your own children!" Moria countered, as somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that this was becoming less of a hearing and more of a shouting match. The realization took its time in getting prominence in her thoughts, but once it did, the Ancient's demeanor changed drastically. She took in a shallow, audible breath, and turned her head away, looking down to the floor. Screaming at a "Master of the Universe" would not help her case, such as it was. "Never mind," she said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. "It doesn't matter anymore." Her head rose, once again composed and calm. "Why bother inciting me to anger, Man-at-Arms?" she questioned softly. "I've already proclaimed myself guilty. …Just sentence me and let's be done with this," she concluded, looking almost imploringly at Randor.
Randor almost glared at Duncan, chastising him without words for the argument he had begun. The King stood from his throne, and descended the small dais to stand on equal footing with the Dereskian monarch. "Not yet, your highness," he stated calmly. Duncan took this to mean that Randor would now do the questioning, and so he withdrew back to stand beside the throne, trying to force his anger to cool. The King of Eternia then continued, his eyes staying riveted upon the form of the queen. "There is one matter that I wish to ask you of."
Moria Vadorian regarded him with almost visibly tired eyes. "And what would that be, your Highness?" she questioned softly, though she already had a fairly good idea.
"You have stated that you felt your actions were just, as well as what those two-thousand odd Eternians did to incite your wrath," the king began, his smooth voice filling the great hall. "But you have not clearly told us why you killed them," he concluded, standing only a few feet away from the white-haired woman.
A hollow chuckle escaped the lips of the queen, and Randor could almost see the sheer ache and fatigue that were in the sound. The entire aura of the Ancient Dereskian seemed to have changed. Where before there had been a vivacious young woman, fiery and filled with anger that was pressed upon her, there was now merely a tired monarch, with eyes so cold and dark that they seemed to be endless voids. "I would think," Moria began, her words thick and as chilly as ice water, "that would be fairly obvious, your highness." She turned out to the crowd, gesturing at them with her wings as they spread open. "Everyone here can tell you why I killed those men. It was vengeance. A fair, strict justice done to avenge the cold-blooded massacre of my people. I have already told you that, so you should not bother asking," she said without emotion, almost as if she were narrating something and was not actually there. "I would suggest asking instead, not 'why did I kill,' but 'why did I stop killing.'"
There was a soft murmur from the 'audience,' and Randor looked around at several people, including Man-at-Arms, before pressing the question. "Very well," he countered, crossing his arms slowly over his chest. "Why did you stop killing?"
At this, the Ancient Queen seemed to grow pensive, which was odd, since in effect she had posed the question. Finally, she took a little breath and answered quietly. "It wasn't satisfying. Not really." The tiniest hint of a smile fell over her face, and she turned back to look at the group of Eternians there to watch. "I very slowly realized that, in killing, I was not accomplishing anything. I was only feeding the fire of a hatred that had existed even before I was born. Hatred of Eternians, who hated a Dereskian, who hated Eternians, who hated Dereskians… it was an endless cycle, and by destroying Eternian lives, I was only contributing to it." She paused, turning her eyes to the floor as she shook her head, almost smiling. "It took me two hundred years to discover that I was not helping anyone, even myself, by continuing my ceaseless destruction… so I stopped."
Randor appeared reflective for a moment, as if processing this information into his brain. After a moment, he spoke, and Moria turned towards him to hear his words. "That does not change the fact that you killed two thousand, five hundred and eighty-seven people before your 'revelation,' your highness. Do you lament for those murders?"
"Do I regret doing it?" she clarified, her eyes open, clear and crisp as she almost laughed at the notion. Her face cleared and she hid the smile behind her eyes, but it was still there to anyone that knew how to look. There was an audible pause before she answered. "I feel… sorrow… in the knowledge that there were people who were saddened by the deaths of those I killed…" she said slowly, her tone clam and resolved. "…But I cannot say that I regret it…."
With those words, she sealed her doom… and she knew it.
Two Days Later
The door to Moria's cell opened, not that its occupant really noticed or even appeared to care. Still, Randor entered the room nonetheless, addressing the woman within with the respect he felt she still deserved. "Your highness," he said in a soft, slightly commanding tone.
Lady Moria slowly turned her head in his direction; her eyes once again empty of any emotion. "The sentence?" she asked quietly, knowing there was no other reason why he would enter her chamber. Randor rook a short breath, but before he could answer, however, she stood and turned towards him. Her hair fell away from her face as she stood once again in a queenly manner, regal and elegant even now, at the end.
"You don't have to tell me," she said softly, and he could almost hear a tiny bit of kindness in her tone. "You and your Council have decided that I am a danger to Eternia, and must be removed."
The Eternian King drew in a deep breath and his eyes went wide in surprise. It was all the answer she needed.
She nodded slowly and exhaled quietly, looking at him with the resigned gaze of the condemned. "You do realize, I hope, that I cannot die by conventional means?" she asked almost indifferently, and Randor nodded. "How then do you propose to kill me?"
Randor cleared his throat quietly, and looked anywhere but into the vapid pools that were her eyes. "It has been decided that, since it is suspected that only a gradual draining of your life force would be sufficient enough to kill you, the law banning the Death of Ten Thousand Cuts will be suspended, just for this instance… though had I been the one to suggest options, I would have elected upon some other type of execution," he admitted quietly.
Moria Vadorian chuckled hollowly. "Do you regret that I will have to die in such a manner?" She took his silence as an affirmation, and her chuckle grew. "I would appreciate that, if there really were any alternative… but there is not, so do not pity me." She smiled, almost kindly, and turned away from him, moving over to the opposite wall; as if there was an invisible window only she could look out of. "Even now, seven hundred years later, it seems that the Eternians still want a good show."
"Your official sentencing will take place later this evening, in front of the people. The implementation of you execution, however, will be private," he corrected softly, his tone commanding but still quiet. "There will only be the executioner and you."
The Ancient Dereskian turned slowly, with a single brow raised. "And my executioner will be whom, exactly?"
There was a short pause before the King of Eternia replied. "That will be revealed this evening as well," he answered softly.
She chuckled chillingly and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "And you Eternians claim that I am cruel." Her white hair slid down in front of her face as she once more moved to sit on her bench, already knowing who would have the 'honor' of killing her.
Silence fell over the room for a long moment. Randor felt uncomfortable in the dark quiet of the room, and thought that he should say something, anything. He finally broke the silence as he cleared his throat. "Your highness…" he began haltingly, unsure of himself as he cast his eyes downwards at the floor. "For what it is worth… I am sorry…" If he meant to say more, he did not, for he was cut off by a cold, hollow, unforgiving sound from the formerly silent woman. Laughter.
Moria's empty mirth continued. Her white hair covered her face, the silken locks shining in the lights of the prison as she lifted her head. Only when the strands of hair shifted slightly could he see the thin red streams that slid down her cheeks. She laughed again, an empty, cruel, and lifeless sound echoing through the air. "Sorry?" she repeated softly, almost to herself. "You are not sorry. Not truly. You think the sentence is just and fair. You think I deserve it." Her gaze lifted and locked with Randor's, and an icy shiver ate its way through his spine at the sheer amount of pain in her eyes. "You say 'sorry' because you feel that you should, but there is no sorrow in you, so don't bother with the pretense of it."
"Alright," he said in a tone a little above a whisper. "Perhaps I'm not sorry. Perhaps I think that you did deserve this sentence. Then what?"
A soft chuckle met him in reply as the Dereskian smiled, hollowly. "Perhaps… I'd agree with you," she answered, her tone darker and more frightening than he had ever heard. "Perhaps what I wanted all along was for you to kill me."
Randor seemed taken aback for a moment, and then he nodded as things began to click in his head. "That's why you pleaded guilty," he realized.
Moria Vadorian shook her head only a little, not in negation, as a dark chuckle escaped her. "It certainly wasn't because I felt obligated by my conscious. Maybe I did want to die, maybe I did plead guilty just so I'd be condemned…. And maybe I didn't." Somehow, even now in this subdued and imprisoned state, Moria found reason to give him a patented smirk. "Either way, you'll never find out now, will you?"
He looked as if he meant to counter her, but he could find no words that she would appreciate. In the end, he gave up, shaking his head sadly as he turned and silently left the cell, locking it behind him.
Moria looked down at the floor as he departed, realizing that she had little time left, and wanting to know exactly how many hours there were. "Randor," she called softly, causing him to turn back and look at her after a long moment. "…When?"
It took him only a few seconds to realize what she was asking, and then he answered, a little hesitatingly. "In two days… beginning at dawn."
The Dereskian's face, covered once more by her hair, fell a little further downwards, and she said nothing else. The lights behind Randor dimmed as he left, and she glanced for a moment after his form as he vanished into the darkness.
The slightest smile slid over the Ancient woman's features as she slowly sighed. "…'Ie hach puotë ti caillt…. keisdae mortié."
'…Thus, in the end… Everything dies.'