Member-only story
The Lady Klara, The Prince Matteo
Fantasy short story.
Warning: general violence (mostly of the stabby kind,) blood, injury, murder, implied war, loss of autonomy
Villain.
Murderer.
She hears their murmurs, as she walks by.
Normally she would either laugh, or threaten the gossip-mongers with a long, slow, death… But not today.
…She’s so tired.
Her limbs are not her own. She moves behind her own face, watching herself running around, trying to keep things going — trying to hold the fraying strands of this little army together.
She tries…
…to keep…
…going.
But it just keeps getting harder.
She can’t brush it off, as she has so many times before.
When her legs almost give out on her way to the mess, she knows something is wrong — he’s taken things too far, this time. Idiot! Princes have porridge for brains.
She can’t keep going any longer. Desperate, she makes for the tent.
She halts before the guards. There are two of them, but her eyes see four — two sets of identical twins, blurring over each other at the edges. She keeps her face as blank as possible.
