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Olivia was angry.
In one day--had it even been a full day?--her entire world had been flipped upside down. First, she was caught up in a coup and had to fight her way to freedom. And just when the futile rebellion was crushed, her King had summoned an army of metal and fire to occupy his own city. Turns out, the person she had been devoted to serving for her entire life was a tyrannical maniac. A tyrannical maniac who threw her in jail. A tyrannical maniac who broke the bones of the woman she loved. A tyrannical maniac who murdered the strange creature that she had cared for like a daughter.
Olivia winced at the memory, at the thought of the poor girl slumped to the ground. She could still smell the dried blood staining her lap where she had cradled the human before being dragged away. Every thought, every memory caused her to cry, until the hot, dry air of the prison drained her to the point where she lacked the strength to so much as shed a tear.
She couldn't tell how much time had passed before the heavy footfalls finally pulled her from the memories.
"Ah, I thought I might find you here," he said with a laugh. A laugh. As if she was a friend at a bar and not a prisoner locked away in the deepest depths of the strongest prison newts could build.
Olivia stayed silent, eyes tracing the grooves in the floor, nails digging into her palms. Anything to distract her from the monster outside her cell.
"What? Nothing to say? No long-winded lectures? No sarcastic remarks?" The king asked. "I’d have thought after the unpleasantness yesterday you'd be full of angry words."
Unpleasantness? He killed a child! Her child! "She deserves a funeral,” she croaked out, throat hoarse from the heat of the room and the endless sobs of the day before.
The leviathan stopped. "Hmm?"
Olivia looked up for the first time since Marcy fell. "She deserves a funeral."
The king stepped closer to her cell, towering over her even as he crouched to look her in the eyes, smirking. "Who does?"
Olivia's anger surged. Who? Who?! As if he could forget her. Forget the girl, the kid who had done so much for Newtopia. Who had risked her life time and again for him. Who trusted him mere minutes before he plunged his fiery blade through her chest. It took all her strength not to scream, to lunge at the cell door and bloody the bastard's smug face. "Marcy," she uttered through gritted teeth.
And he laughed again. Laughed at the name of the girl he slaughtered. Olivia’s rage threatened to consume her. "But why would we need a funeral for someone still alive?"
For just a second, all the anger, fear, sadness, and guilt that Olivia was feeling gave way, pushed out as a tidal wave of hope filled her. Still alive? She could still be alive?
The look on her face was enough to make Andrias laugh again. "Come with me."
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While the dungeon was hot and dry--designed to stop prisoners from having the strength to escape--this place was suffocatingly humid. The cool, moist air was a refreshing, revitalizing change, but it was almost too much, even for a newt like Olivia.
She waited as the king fiddled with whatever mechanism locked the door before them, and allowed herself a moment to think. To dare to hope that somehow, magically, poor little Marcy was alright. That she really had somehow survived being pierced through the chest by the leviathans flaming sword. Her thoughts shifted to how the king might be messing with her. Using her hope and her love to torture her. It didn't seem like something Andrias would do, but clearly Olivia didn't know him as well as she thought.
When the door finally slid open, Olivia gasped. Through the fog and pale blue light, she could see her. Little Marcy Wu, suspended in a tube of… something. At first, Olivia thought it was some sick trophy, a permanent reminder of Andrias' triumph. But as she got closer, she saw the gentle rise and fall of the girl's chest, and the stream of bubbles that accompanied it.
Andrias stood behind her, smiling. "Well there she is. Alive and well." Another cursed laugh. "Mostly. She'll have to stay in there for quite a while."
Olivia stepped closer to the vat. The liquid Marcy was floating in was too thick to be water, and all sorts of tubes connected to her broken body. The large machine she was connected to almost looked to be breathing. And even though she was bobbing up and down in the tube, she was still far to still.
Olivia found the strength to cry again. She didn't fully understand what was happening, or how any of it was even possible. But she didn't need to. Marcy was hurt, but she was still alive.
"I didn't want to hurt her." Andrias' voice was calm, almost soft. "I did what I had to for our kingdom. But I never wanted to hurt her. As soon as that other girl and her toad friend ran off, I brought her here to heal," he said, gesturing to the pod. "Ironically, if the girl had stayed to help her, Marcy might not have made it. Really, any rebellion might threaten her healing," he laughed once more.
Olivia was sick of hearing that laugh, but she was no fool. She knew why the king was telling her this. Even though she was just a servant, she was a notable one. If she rejoined the royal entourage, went back into the fold, it would bring a small sense of normalcy back to the castle. Show the people of Newtopia that they need not be alarmed, and quiet dissident whispers in the capital.
This wasn't a gift. The king didn't bring Olivia here out of the goodness of his heart. It was a proposition. Come back to me, help me solidify my rule, and your little friend will be safe.
If Marcy were here, really here, she'd tell her not to do it. Olivia could tell how much the young ranger had come into herself in Amphibia, and she could remember more than one breakfast where Marcy would tell Olivia to do the same, to try living how she wanted to live. To be who she wanted to be, if just for a day.
"I am who I want to be," she'd respond. It was a familiar lie. One she'd told for years. And it became harder and more painful to tell every day. Especially now.
But that didn't matter. It didn't matter if Marcy would be disappointed in her. It didn't matter if she hated herself for it. It would keep Marcy safe, and that's what mattered.
So she would tell her familiar lie. Become Lady Olivia once more. And one day, when Marcy was safe, truly safe, she'd show her, and Andrias, and everyone else exactly who she was.