You Stay

The narrow streets of the city stretch before you, bathed in the amber glow of evening lanterns. Merchants shout their last bargains from colorful stalls, the scent of roasted chestnuts mingling with the acrid tang of coal smoke. Somewhere nearby, a bard’s lute strums a soft, haunting melody, but the sound is swallowed by the low hum of the crowd. The city feels alive, yet distant, as though you’re walking through a dream.

"Your Highness..." you begin, though the words catch in your throat. Then, correcting yourself: "Viola. There are things at play here that you may not understand."

Her fiery gaze pins you in place. "Whatever it is can wait—"

"It can’t." Your voice cuts through hers, sharp and unyielding. "Persephone has your mother and Anora. It was by torturing your sister that Persephone secured the crown. But in truth, the plan was entirely Anora's."

Viola’s face flushes red, her hands clenching into trembling fists. "That fucking cunt," she snarls, her voice a growl. "I’ll fucking kill her—"

You step forward and grab her by the arms, firm but steady. "She did it for you," you say. "So you would be free to lead House Valencia. So there would be peace in the queendom."

Her eyes shut tightly, and a grimace twists her features. For a moment, the rage melts away, replaced by something far more pained. "There’s a certain wisdom in that," she murmurs, her voice quieter now. "Goddess damn her conniving soul... but I don’t see how this prevents you from leaving with me."

"I am to be wed to Persephone," you say bluntly.

The words strike her like a slap, and Viola stiffens, her gaze boring into yours.

"She doesn’t know it yet," you continue. "But Katarina will demand it on Persephone’s birthday next week. And Persephone cannot refuse her."

A soft chuckle breaks the tension, and your gaze shifts to Cassandra, leaning casually against the damp wall of the alley. The assassin’s smirk gleams in the dim light.

"You think this is funny?" Viola snaps, her anger shifting to Cassandra.

"Funny?" Cassandra repeats, her grin widening. "Funny in that he’ll tear her frigid twat in two the first time he enters her."

Viola exhales sharply through her nose, her expression caught between annoyance and amusement. "I seem to recall a certain little assassin suffering much the same fate not so long ago."

Cassandra shrugs, unbothered. "I wasn’t complaining."

"Enough," Viola says, turning back to you. Her tone softens, though her eyes remain piercing. "Well, Bradley... as much as it pains me to admit it, the best chance for the queendom’s peace lies in this course of action."

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders straightening with the weight of a Duchess’s resolve. "With you as Persephone’s husband, you may guide the queendom toward a peace my mother only dreamed of." Her gaze falters for a moment. "I will ask, however, that you take care of my mother and Anora. They will no doubt be held hostage to ensure my... cooperation."

With a sharp motion, Viola signals to her companions. The women melt into the shadows, their movements precise and practiced. Viola steps away but pauses at the edge of the alley, turning to you one last time.

"And one more thing," she says, her voice colder now. "The heads of all the Houses—including myself—will be at that wedding. I expect you to run that bitch through."

Before you can respond, she disappears around the corner, her words lingering like a ghost in the night air. You stand alone in the alley, the dead guard at your feet and the distant wail of alarms echoing through the streets.

The crowd has thinned now, shopkeepers locking their doors and drawing shutters. Shadows lengthen as you make your way toward the castle. The lanterns flicker, and the cobblestones beneath your boots feel unsteady, as though the weight of Viola’s parting words presses against your every step.

When you reach the castle gates, the guards let you through without question. Their eyes are trained on the horizon, where the glow of the city’s defenses being raised casts an eerie light against the twilight sky. The path ahead is treacherous, and each step back into the keep feels heavier than the last.