The Princess's Servant

105. Truce?

As the throne room doors bounced shut, Sybil and Morrigan strode out into the courtyard. Sybil watched the white marble tile as she kicked kicked kicked her skirt in front of her. Which one of them? Which one of them had he wanted to save? Which one of them had he condemned to suffer pain?

'You!' He'd said to her. 'I choose you! Er— Her! Er—' He'd 'chosen' her. Chosen her how? Chosen her to be spared? Chosen her to be harmed? Knowing Holden, it was probably the former. But then... that was just what she would want to think. What did Holden want? Sybil didn't know.

She kicked her skirt in front of her as she walked. Kicked kicked kicked.

Morrigan strode beside Sybil, watching the Lailoyan princess from the corner of her eye. There was a small supply room coming up ahead. Perfect.

The Wardian princess unsheathed an ornamental blade tucked in the folds of her gown. She tackled Sybil with it, trying to wrench her onto the floor. Sybil resisted enough to stay standing, but not enough to stand her ground. Locked together, the two of them stumbled into the wall next to the small, dark closet. Sybil caught the glint of steel in her periphery. She wedged her knee up to her chest and kicked Morrigan back from her.

"Enough!"

Morrigan stood across from her, panting.

"Neither of us should hurt the other until we know who he meant." There was no need to explain who 'he' was — Morrigan knew.

But she didn't seem to care. Morrigan advanced on her again, and this time swung the blade as she lunged. Sybil dove out of the way just in time for the blade to hit wall.

Morrigan repositioned. When she lurched, Sybil ducked into the closet to get out of the way. It worked — Morrigan missed her — but then... Sybil found in a tiny closet with her only exit blocked by...

Morrigan. Her silhouette blackened the bright doorway. She paused for only a moment before rushing Sybil again. 

"Stop it!"

Heel connected knee. There was a pop, or maybe a crack, and then Morrigan's leg buckled in some unnatural way. Sybil eyes widened. She'd hurt her. She'd actually hurt her. She'd gone against Holden's plea. But then, maybe this was what Holden had wanted. Morrigan's pain. Sybil's salvation. It was certainly possible, except—

Except watching the woman seethe, she knew: whatever this was, Holden wouldn't like this. What then? What would he like?

The white-haired princess picked herself up and shook off her pain like a dog shakes off water. She stood tall and even cracked a smile as she stepped towards the cornered Sybil. Sybil only watched. There were a dozen different ways to stop her, right now, at least half a dozen of which involved her injured knee. But if Holden had wanted his sister spared, well...

Cold metal at the crook of her neck. Sybil hadn't seen Morrigan raise the blade, but she had felt her head bump against the wall as she strained from it.  Sybil furrowed her brow at this development and she regarded her attacker with some concern. "I don't think it was me," Sybil told her.

Morrigan panted for a moment, half from the effort, half from the pain. "You're still on that?"

Sybil didn't say anything.

"I don't care who it 'was.' The fact that he had to think at all between the safety of his abuser and that of his own flesh and blood should tell you exactly what sort of judgment my brother has."

The knife was sharp like a reed at the thin skin of her neck. "So you'd impose your will on him?" Sybil asked. "I thought that's what you hated me for."

Something flashed brilliantly in Morrigan's eyes, silver scales diving back into the deep. "I hate you because you hurt him! For the sheer pleasure of it! You have no business being alive, let alone being his wife!"

Sybil felt a growl rumble in her throat. "You peeped on him while he was pretending to fuck me," she countered. "And you say you're his sister?"

"I was looking out for him!"

"Looking in on him more like..."

"Shut up!" The blade dug in harder. "I could slice open your neck right here right now if I wanted to. It'd be like cutting the skin of a chicken in more ways than one."

"Yeah, then go ahead. Except you won't. Because you're wondering the same thing I am: 'Who'd he pick?' Which one of us did Holden choose to hurt?"

Morrigan narrowed her eyes and shook her head in... disgust? No, disbelief? "He didn't picked either of us, you idiot! He told you that directly!"

"I asked him who should get hurt," Sybil explained slowly. "He said my name and then changed it to yours. And then asked me what the question was."

"He told you he wanted 'no one' hurt. And then when you pressed him, he said 'take me.' Why the fuck would you think Holden would want either of us harmed?"

Sybil blinked once, twice. That... made sense. That actually made a lot of sense. A wave of shock and certainty and understanding hit Sybil. He didn't want them hurt. He didn't want either of them hurt. "Oh," she said. "Oh..."

Morrigan only watched as her counterpart's eyes clouded over with thought.

"He wants us... to get along."

The Wardian princess withdrew her knife and watched as Sybil slowly slid to the floor. She would not hurt her, Morrigan knew. Not like this. Besides. She now towered over the sitting princess. "Holden lives in a fantasy world," Morrigan said. "He thinks the woman who tortured him is good at heart and will one day repent of her wicked ways. Little does he know that you're actually insane and an ever increasing threat to his odds of seeing 30."

Sybil stared blankly at Morrigan's shoes. "...He doesn't want us to get hurt." Her words were hollow, like the inside of a bell.

"That's... what I just said."

"I get it," Sybil nodded. "I finally get it. I finally—" the Lailoyan princess looked up at Morrigan. "... Truce?"

Morrigan put her hands on her hips and stifled a laugh. "You've got to be shitting me."

Sybil only stared up at Morrigan with a blank but expectant look.

The Wardian princess scoffed. "You think I'm going to accept a truce when you're cornered on the floor and I'm holding the knife? Yeah, no thanks."

Sybil looked back down at the floor and nodded slowly. She stared at Morrigan's ankle.

Morrigan felt her leg shift first. She knew the searing pain would come before it hit. As leg pulled on knee, knee alighted with pain and pain made everything tense. Morrigan felt herself curling up. Morrigan felt herself going down. Down. And her hand was strangely cold... And empty. Empty. Where was her blade?

Morrigan's back hit the floor and Sybil scrambled on top of her. Ah. There it was. Her missing knife was at her throat. Morrigan raised her hands slowly in surrender. She watched the blonde woman on on top of her very closely.

Sybil watched back. "Truce?"

That word sent a jolt through Morrigan. She frowned. "Get off of me," she said, and she tried to shove the knife away.

Sybil batted away her hand and pressed the blade further. "You said it yourself. Holden doesn't want either of us hurt."

"I also said he has terrible judgment!" Morrigan struck Sybil's hand with a quick, sharp blow. Her fingers jerked and the knife went flying. Morrigan bucked her hips and wrestled Sybil until they were side-by-side. Sybil seemed to give up because less than a second later, Morrigan was on top of her again with another unsheathed blade.

Morrigan beamed down with a mocking smile. "'Truce?'"

Sybil went limp and now raised her hands in surrender. Not because she'd given up, not because she couldn't beat her, but because she'd finally figured out how to prove to Holden that she'd been telling the truth when she'd said she cared for him.

A/N

Sorry for the late chapter! Please vote!!