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˖*°࿐ chapter thirty-three. XXXIII. MOSSADOR
"SONS OF THE HARPY," Laelia says as she watches Korben place down a gold mask with horns down on the table. Thor had left, so there was no explaining to do, but the large man being gone left the hole in her heart open for more salt; Loki was dead, Thor was gone and surely their parents will never return to Björndottir since Darys' move on the Queen.
"Yes, Your Grace," Korben nods to her, "they left it on the body."
"They've never killed before," she notes, folding her hands in front of her and wringing her fingers. She now wore a white dress with a cape attached to its back (a small tribute to Loki beside naming a dragon after him), and her hair was in looped braids at the back of her head.
"There was only a matter of time, Your Grace," he replies. "Conquerors always meet with resistance."
"I didn't conquer them, their own people did."
Mossador replies, in High Krefson, that they did not see the slaves a people. She answers back, saying that they need to learn to see things differently, "He did not risk his life fighting for his freedom so cowards in masks could take it away. And I did not take up residence in this pyramid so I could watch the city below decline into chaos. What was the name of the man you lost?" It takes Grey Worm a while to answer, searching for the right words he has heard them speak.
"White Rat, Your Grace," he speaks with a heavy accent.
"I want him buried with honor," Laelia walks around the table. "Publicly. In the Temple of the Graces."
"The Sons of the Harpy would hear that message."
"Make them very angry," Mossador adds to the previous sentence.
"Angry snakes lash out, makes chopping off their heads that much easier. Find the men who did this and bring them to me."
They bow their heads and begin to search for the men around the city.
***
THEY HAD GOTTEN THE MEN, placed them in cells inside the small dungeons, Laelia saying that she wanted a fair trial, but Mossador thought that she meant she had her hands tied, and went to kill them. He had ordered the guards to open the doors to the cell and begins walking in, head bowed and wearing his slave clothing proudly. He walked into the cell, guards holding up a Harpy's Son, and stares at him with a crazy glint in his eye. The Harpy's Son begins speaking, saying that Laelia doesn't belong in the city and that no matter how many of the traitor slaves keep calling her 'Mhysa', she will never be their mother.
The Harpy's Son is nailed to the door next to the message saying, 'Kill the Masters' in its scrabbly writing.
"Why?" Laelia asks the former slave, who was bound in chains.
"For you, Mhysa," he answers in his native tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, chains hitting against each other, filling the room with the metal noises and the sounds of clothing being moved around. "You wanted the Harpy dead, but your hands were tied. I set you free, as you did all of us."
"He was our prisoner, awaiting trial. You had no right."
"He would rather rip your city apart than see the slaves being lifted from dirt," he replies.
"There are no more slaves," she shakes her head at him. "There are no more Masters."
"Then who lives in the pyramids?" He counters, raising his eyebrows at her. "Who wears gold masks and murders your children? When Grey Worm came to us, I was the first to take a knife for you. I remember my father's face as I struck down his master, who had traded his infant son for a dog. My father died in the fighting. If we allow the Sons of the Harpy to return us to chains, he never lived."
Laelia is about to start crying, his story was powerful and moving, but she must never allow him to see her weak. "The Harpy's life was not yours to take. Once, the Masters were the law ―"
"And now you are the law!" He interrupts.
"The law is the law," she grits her teeth. Tears swim in Mossador's eyes, "Take him." Two guards pick up Mossador by the under side of his arms, dragging him away as he stares into the queen's eyes. The wideness of them made them look innocent like a child's begging for food or a toy he has always wanted. That made it harder for her.
***
'MHYSA!' WAS BEING YELLED OUT from all sides from the former slaves to the woman that walked down the stone steps in her white scaled dress, looking regal as some guards followed her from all sides. Men and women held out their arms for her to touch, but she held up her skirts to avoid tripping over them. Masters stared at her with unkind eyes as she dropped her heavy skirts once she reached the platform in which the execution would take place, "She should've cut off the prisoners head in the Great Pyramid and be done with it."
"She'd like hearing from you," Darys replies, and the Unsullied turn to face the slaves and Masters as the queen stepped forward.
"Ao opened aōha remȳti naejot nyke kesrio syt nyke promised ao freedom se justice. Mēre daor exist mijegon se tolie," she begins as her eyes sweep the crowd, the screams quieting to a mere whisper, and the Unsullied begin to bring the prisoner, Mossador, forward. (You opened your gates to me because I promised you freedom and justice. One can't exist without the other.)
They bring Mossador to his knees beside the queen, making him face away from her, and he continues to speak to her. "Mhysa, kostilus!"(Mother, please!) Flashbacks of Aeneas' death flashes through Laelia's mind:
"Lali! Don't! Tell them!" Aeneas pleads, trying to shake off the men, but they tug harder than he was. "Make them! No, you can't!"
"Shijetra issa."(Forgive me.) She turns her head to him, not a lot, but enough to let him know she was listening but without her full attention. "Iā citizen hen quiri iksin awaiting iderenne se bisa vala ossēntan zirȳla. Se qilōnarion iksis morghon," she continues her speech, but eruptions from the crowd stopped her. Everyone was begging for his mercy. (A citizen of Quiri was awaiting trial and this man murdered him. The punishment is death.) She looks at Darys and nods.
It was time.
Darys unsheaths his Arhak and walks towards Mossador threateningly, outcries for his mercy coming louder as the man came closer to kneeling ex-slave, placing the cold metal on the warm neck of Mossador. He takes one large gulp and looks at Laelia. "Mhysa," he whispers to her, beginning to pray to the Old Gods and the New for his safe traves into the afterlife. They all awaited her command, the screams still persistent.
With one last look at the small man, his head is wiped cleanly from his shoulders as the screams stop.
It was too late to beg for his mercy.
Instead, they begin to hiss like snakes at the woman and her army, one even going as far as throwing a rock at the head of a Master. The Unsullied hold back the advancing slaves and Masters, using all of their body strength to keep their feet rooted to the spot. Korben, Grey Worm, and Darys with a few Unsullied, holding their shields over their heads, lead the queen and her advisor through the crowd, rushing them as quickly as possible before anything else could happen. The Unsullied and Second Sons rush down to hold them back.
Chaos has begun.
Loki's presence is among them.
The God of Mischief and Chaos is rising among them.
