The sound of a joyous squeal, laughing children, the scent of flowers and fresh fruit. Her once beautiful Cintra, built to glory with her own hands, turned to ash and dust in a matter of days… The memory of that beloved face, freckled and blushed, staring up at her with a grin that was missing a tooth or two suddenly plagued her mind. Her beloved, beautiful gardens turned to ash, and even her beloved old linden tree, where the swing was, cut down and used as wood for funeral pyres. She looked out at the city, ash and scent of burned bodies filling her lungs. She looked down, at the main courtyard, littered with bodies and soaked with blood. She nearly crawled up the stairs of the tower, all the way up, to the battlement, and swung the doors open, walking onto the wall, arms coming to wrap around one of the pillars for support. Leaning against a wall for support, she walked, despite the pain in her side bringing sparks to her eyes with each step she took, her hand pressed against the wound that opened up again with the movement, seeping blood through the bandages and onto her skin. “Don’t you dare touch me!” She screamed, and the man who attempted to hold her backed off immediately. She waited, expectantly, eyes traveling between them, and when she realised they wouldn’t change their minds, she begun to rose from the bed with a grunt of pain and frustration combined. “And then what? Keep me as a slave, or prisoner of war? Use my head to bargain with Crach and gain control of the Isles? Just do what I ask of you, damnnit!” They stood as they did, none moving to carry out the order given, nor to offer her a dagger or a sword, so she could open her veins herself or dig it into the wound and part ways with this world faster. Who knows, perhaps they will nurse you back to health and then…” “Then give me something sharp, I shall do it myself.” Calanthe spat out, upset by their cowardice. None wanted to spill the blood of the Cerbins, lest they be cursed for all eternity. Queen Calanthe had always been wise and just, kind and attentive to their needs, many of them she built from the ground up, as she did Cintra, upon the foundations left for her by her father. None of them dared, none of them wanted to raise a hand against her. “One of you, take your blade and end my suffering.” As their Lioness uttered these words, the knights and the barons arose protest. But please, for the love of Gods.” She rose her emerald green eyes to look at them, each one of them still completely silent, awaiting her final words. “Then, if you so choose, you may fall upon them yourselves. “Make sure every mother has a blade to let their child go without fear or pain.” She started, “Take your own swords and grant your wives, mothers and sisters mercy of a painless death.” Each one of the men still alive and loyal to her saw it in her eyes and knew that the orders she was giving were given out of love to them.
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So she turned to these that were still by her side, about to give her final, most dreadful orders. She knew what would be done to her, or anybody they would find alive within the castle. Calanthe knew the Nilfgaardians’ cruelty. Once her Cub was torn away from her side and sent off into the cruel world. Solemn silence once more fell around them once this terrible ordeal was done. AWAKEN WHAT LAYS DORMANT 1/? The screams of her granddaughter calling out to her were still echoing in the corridor when the Queen closed her tired eyes, allowing a few tears to slip down her cheeks, praying briefly to the Goddess Melitele, to keep watch over the girl, to deliver her to safety.