THE KING IS DEAD

15

I. Save the Roses
° • ♚♛♜♝♞ • °

❝GOD SAVE THE KING.❞
*ృ༅*.𝕬 prayer of good health. A synonym for gratitude. Spoken with a genuine smile.

"God save the Queen."

A year now, and it is still strange to hear it said with genuine smiles. Amy may be on the edge of fourteen, two years below the proper age to rule, but in her one year as Queen of the Emerald Coast, she has done well. She and Silver both. The High Priest holds the power until they come of age, but even then he looks to them for advice and support.

The people of the Coast are nervous of having children rule over them, yet these children have not disappointed them thus far. So the feeling is rather shaky, but no one demands a change.

(Well, one person does.)

But if you know Amy, that is to be expected. Adopted by the neighbouring royal family, the Acorns, she had learnt to rule as soon as she could speak. The Rose of the Forest is a born queen, same as her sister Sally—whilst their other sibling hides in the shadows, gathering secrets and destroying the necks of those who dare to do harm upon any of the crowns.

Sometimes Amy laments that Rouge has chosen the loyal path of shadow rather than the royal path of light. Rouge is strong and clever; she would be a wonderful queen . . . albeit slightly greedy.

The bat cannot help herself when it comes to pretty things.

But the path had been chosen—chosen long ago—and Rouge will not betray the academy that made her the perfect shadow she is. Rouge stays in the dark and protects both her queens from it.

So when the people come to her and Silver in an hour of need, things are done about it, and shoulders drop in relief and bows are bent and tears are shed.

And just now, orphans have been supplied to a farmer whose old age has him wanting and needing both company and help, and he bows low to King Silver and Queen Amy, thanking them, wishing them great health, and then—!

"The Exiled King had not shown me such kindness. I am so grateful to you both."

Amy inhales sharply. Beneath the table, hidden by tablecloth, Silver takes her hand.

She does not have the control to speak without anger, so Silver speaks for her.

"It's what we're here for, sir. The King and Queen serve their subjects, not the other way around."

The farmer eyes sparkle with tears as he gives a final bow, and when he rises, he takes the two boys that are now his own lovingly by their shoulders and guides them along, whispering a promise of home.

The Exiled King. The name is a barb. To more than one person. To a certain person.

To Amy? Not so much, in all honesty. Sonic never hurt her. There was, and still is, no love between them. She was his trophy wife, a marriage hastily made to rub it in Shadow's face, to spite the boy he (apparently, somehow) loved. To secure his place on the throne, for a king's crown cannot be so easily removed once he has a queen; the act is near impossible when there is a child. The crown can only be taken by death at that point.

So the mention of that wicked boy does not hurt Amy, not truly. But her heart is so full of love, that she aches for those who have been abused by him. Her heart breaks for Shadow, who still has room for love after all that had been done; who has every right to kill the beast, yet refused when the blade was in his hand.

It is true, Sonic had never bothered with Amy, positively or negatively. She was just there. A mild annoyance. A splash of pink in his life. A girl to show off and spoil.

Yet the old farmer spoke of him and now she cannot catch her breath.

Amy gives Silver's hand a double squeeze and stands, excusing herself. His eyes watch her go as the final citizen approaches the dais, and that warm, honey-gold gaze and that lovely smile do not break until she faces him and returns it, mouthing a declaration of her love to him before she rounds the corner, out of sight.

Silver does not know it is the last time he will see her smile.

♚♛♜♝♞

❝HOW LOVELY . . .❞
*ృ༅*. 𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 comes in many shades of gorgeous, but Amy's preferred shade is that of burnt peach, that deep orange-pink that underlines any lingering clouds with pale blue.

This shade of sunset makes the roses in the garden below her look like they are on fire. The beauty helps her regain her breath, melts her agitation. The scene crumples up the image of Sonic and tosses it in the incinerator.

"Thinking of me?"

A gasp rips out of Amy. She does not need to turn around to know who speaks, and against her better judgement, she looks.

Him.

Sonic leans against the balcony railing, twirling a dagger in his fingers. So causal, so normal, yet his mind is broken by wickedness.

"You're not welcome here."

The dagger stops, hilt gripped tight in his palm. He lifts his head to stare at her. "Not welcome? In my own house?"

"I'll scream." Her warning to him. A warning he does not deserve. "Go away or I'll scream."

Her fingers fumble beneath her cape, feeling for a folded-up hammer that will smash his head in. Her trembling fingers take the handle; she trembles, though she does not know why. What reason has she to fear from Sonic? He has never hurt her. The only blood on his hands is that of his brother's. No one else.

You do know. Rouge's voice in her head. Always the voice of reason. You know what a wicked person is capable of.

. . . And because Amy does know, her eyes are taken hostage by tears.

"Scream, by all means." Sonic shrugs, uncaring. The blade glints in the sleepy sun, a blink of white. "Makes literally no diff'rence to me."

And then he stabs her.

And she cannot scream, no matter how hard she tries. The icy steel has stolen her voice, her breath, her life.

"Roses are red, vi'lets are blue," he sings. Sings such a lovely song as Amy claws for breath, begs for it; is denied it. "The roses are dead and so are you."

Sonic rips the dagger out and pushes her off the balcony.

The Queen is dead before she hits the ground, but her corpse is embraced by the roses.