The Leviathan

Chapter Seven

He'll wake up.

Maeve rubbed a single tear away from her cheek. She threw it aside, adding to the already overflowing pile in the bin.

Sage's body was a mess. The royal doctors had cleaned him up to the best of their ability, using whatever techniques they could use to reconnect the torn muscle tissues in his body, mending the dozens of fractures in his body. His hands had been wrapped and rewrapped in bandages at least twice now. His bare chest was exposed, the rising and falling motion so faint that sometimes it stopped entirely, causing Maeve to panic for those few moments. In a way, Maeve was lucky she'd gotten out with just a cast on her left arm.

She'd carried his broken body all the way back, through the city gates, hauling him straight into the emergency room. All with one arm, while nursing a fractured elbow. And for that entire night, she'd knelt right outside the doors of the operating room in complete silence, refusing any treatment until the doctor had given her confirmation that Sage would live.

A nurse walked in silently, giving Maeve a sympathetic look as she gently asked her to remove her hand from Sage's arm. Maeve did so, but only after a short moment. The nurse touched the bandages briefly, the cloth giving off dark fumes as the nurse muttered something under her breath. For a brief moment, the bandages seemed to shift on their own, tightening slightly around Sage's arm before releasing the tension.

"His condition's stabilized for now, I think, although he won't be waking up anytime soon. But he's definitely in there somewhere, if that's any consolation!"

"It is. Thank you." Maeve said. The nurse sighed, looking at Maeve, not sure what to say. "Be careful with that arm, will you dear? Just because its not completely broken doesn't mean you can go dilly-dallying around, alright?"

Maeve didn't reply, as the nurse slipped out of the room.

The clock struck twelve, as Maeve straightened out her shirt. It occurred to her she looked like a complete mess of tears and dirt, and that washing up should be an immediate priority. She cast one last glance at Sage, half his face bandaged up. She tenderly moved his hair aside, lest she move his head slightly, something the doctors had been insistent did not happen.

She pressed her lips against his forehead, letting a single tear fall onto his face. And when she looked up, that familiar sinister purplish gleam was in her eyes. 

---

The already small chamber felt much more cramped then it did. Likely due to the fact there was twice the number of people inside then there usually were. The black ranks were sat around the massive round table that occupied the centre of the room. Behind them, the more prominent members of the grey ranks stood quietly along the walls. Captains of various Huntsmen regiments, keeping their eyes to themselves, careful not to let their vision roam too much lest they catch the gazes of one of the black ranks.

Maeve's entrance silenced the murmurings in the room. She could feel every pair of eyes in the room following her movements, up until she took a seat. Across from her, Alphonse couldn't hide his smirk, the look all over his smug face.

'I told you so,' He mouthed, as Maeve tensed up, but she kept her stony expression up. She wasn't sure how long more she could sustain it.

The King stood at the head of the table. He cleared his throat, his words addressing the entire room, the volume low but his tone firm, commanding of respect.

"Everyone in this room has been well briefed of recent events, I hope. So to cut to the chase: There are members among the Huntsmen who've turned their blades against the throne. Treason." He spat the last word out, as if it dirtied his mouth to even pronounce it. The grey ranks standing by the side shrank into themselves further.