"What have you done..?" Marika says to no one around her but to the person in deep sleep within her.
She stares helplessly at Vaughn's lifeless form, a pool of blood surrounding him, and a golden greatsword pierced through his middle and the ground.
The twins are still children; a missing caretaker will not mean anything. But she worries, they're fond of the clumsy warrior. Godwyn is too enamored with Fortisax to care, and her other two are a different matter.
Lunar Princess Ranni looks up from the leatherbound tome she's reading and frowns. It's already twilight and her beau is nowhere to be seen.
Marika knew of Vaughn's course through the day, and she made sure that there's a sliver of time for him and the princess. The naïve man has staked his claim on the Carian, the bright twinkle of the ring on her hand does not say otherwise.
"He's not coming." She pads closer, the gold and jewelry on her person jingles, making her presence known. Vaughn's body is already in the morgue, cleaned and ready for burial with her word.
The wind turns colder and it bites on her skin. The princess does not turn to her but she knows that she's parsing her words.
"Why?" it's soft and quiet, barely above a whisper.
Marika could make out a handle, the whole of it swathe in cloth and parchments. The shape and size eerily similar to that of the greatsword that impaled Vaughn. It's leaning on the pillar behind the princess
And she understood, a gift. A tradition of every Carian Queen to bequeath their intended. Pity lurks in the pit of her stomach.
"He was involved in an accident." The sky grew dark, and her breath came out in puffs from the cold. "I'm afraid he died from the severity of his wounds."
Snow falls heavily on Leyndell for the remainder of the summer and for every visit of the Carian.
"If what thou has told me to be true, then open your eyes.."
"Thou has vowed to…!"
He coughs. Small tremors wracking his body, dust and decay settle on his tongue and lungs. He sees a light from a small crevice where he's currently kept.
He puts one hand up and pushes. The stone lid falls and cracks on the floor. He rubs at his eyes to adjust to the brightness surrounding him. Judging from the décor, however ruined, it's a church or was one.
In the back of his mind, a wedding is far better than a funeral for someone like him.