ACCISMUS || [m. aleksander]

vii. Court and Poison

"I INTEND TO KEEP YOU BY MY SIDE"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

NEVER MIND. SHE can't handle it.

In her lifetime, Emelyne had been caught in a number of incredibly awkward circumstances. For example, that one time she accidentally stumbled into the wrong room and witnessed a disgusting makeout session between her temporary companion and the bartender. But this wasn't something she could just laugh off anymore.

As soon as she stepped foot within the chamber, a hush fell over the room. Deafening silence accompanied her steps as Aleksander walked towards the center. Dozens of faces turned towards her, their heads tilted and eyes gleaming with interest, dressed in dresses, suits, and keftas'.

It was no surprise of the whispers that followed, the words inaudible yet the thought, chilling. Eyes that focused on her, searching for a single flaw— just one reason to condemn her in this silent, lavish yet judgmental place. Emelyne inhaled sharply. Nothing I have not faced before.

Tall columns upheld the majestic ceiling, banners of royal blue and purple tumbling down on the side of the room. A set of tall stairs stood before her, leading up to the throne of gold.

The floor gleamed beneath her, and Emelyne could see her reflection right off the crest adorned at the center of the room. A Ravkan double eagle, grasping in the dexter claw, a scepter, and in the sinister claw, a cluster of black arrows bound by red, blue, and purple ribbons. 

A symbol of royalty. Despite their webs of deceit spun from the simple suffering of others, their reigns were always so glorious.

"Ah. General Kirigan," a deep voice rang out, sowing peace through all the previously ongoing conversations. "How pleased I am to hear of your safe return."

Besides her, Emelyne felt Aleksander tense. "Moi Tsar," he met the King's eyes, the smile on his face fading away into a stoic, cold expression as his hands automatically moved behind his back in a polite, regal way. "Moya Tsaritsa," he did the same towards the Queen. She silently contemplated whether or not to do the same.

"How was your journey to Novokribirisk, General?" King Alexander I Lantsov leaned back into the seat of his throne. He looked hardly older than his mid-forties, his hair still a pleasant shade of brown and eyes, still sharp as they pierced into the man before him.

Despite the seemingly harmless greeting, there was a shine of displeasure in his beady eyes.

"A success," Aleksander replied, his tone carrying no hint of any other emotion than the formalities expected of a general.

Emelyne wrung her hands nervously. At the center of the floor, she took another deep breath, willing her nerves to subside.

"I see you've brought back an asset for your army?" The King furrowed his eyebrows as he spotted her lingering shadow behind the General.

Aleksander's body stiffened at the sudden reference to her, before letting his shoulders relax. "This is Emelyne," he introduced at last after a brief second of hesitation. He stepped aside for her to present herself as the King beckoned her forward with a wave of his hand.

"Moi Tsar, moya tsaritsa," Emelyne shifted nervously, doing her best to hide her unease and she repeated the same words Aleksander had said. She dipped her head in a poised and elegant greeting, befitting of a noble. "I am Emelyne Ivetta." 

Back straight, head down, shoulders back. Those were the words her father had once taught her. She obeyed them perfectly, straight from the textbook.