Chapter Text
*clink...* *clank...*
Everything felt heavy.
The steps I took, the breaths I took, the sweat running down my face...
“Why...” I softly muttered, shaking as I walked forward, pushed along by large imposing hooded figures carrying menacing looking axes.
The chains around my wrists felt cold, but burning at the same time, I could feel each time I stepped forward, it hit the rags in which I wore. Muttering coming from both my left and right as I turned my gaze, seeing the robed and hooded figures.
Fear.
That’s all I felt as I walked up to the altar, another large figure awaiting me there, holding a large ax, dirtied with blood.
Four massive figures stood behind the altar, their aura imposing onto the crowd, wearing those peculiar crowns. The Bishops, as they were called by the crowd and the figures before I was taken.
Ah, in my fear, I’d almost forgotten as to why I was here.
I was to be killed.
I stood by the altar and then bent over to kneel by one of the larger figures. I felt every bit of my body, my soul, trembling in fear as I stared up at the four figures, the Bishops.
“ Before us stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade. ” One spoke, their voice coming out with a rasp, almost as if they were croaking.
“ With this final sacrifice, the prophecy will be impossible to fulfill. ” Another followed, their voice this time sounded like they were bubbling up from the ocean, almost like someone drowning.
“ The heretic who lies bound below will be condemned to eternal captivity. ” A third one, sounding like their voice came from within a bush, the rustling of sticks and leaves resounding from each syllable of their words.
“ And the Old Faith shall be preserved. ” The last one spoke, their voice soft spoken and yet sounded eerily like a spider spinning their web.
I brace myself, crying as the tall, wide figure holding their ax raised it. Unable to resign to the fate assigned to me, I sobbed as I could hear the ax coming down.
I continued to weep, though a bit confused, sitting on an altar in a place unfamiliar.
I looked around, a dense white fog, wooden stakes and chains surrounding me, piles of bones scattered around as I turned, seeing a figure in the distance, deciding to approach it, tears still falling out of my eyes.
The fog seemed to part as I walked towards the large silhouette, who seemed eager to see me.
I felt an odd sense of ease.
As I approached, the silhouette grew clearer, as well as two others.
A large being bound in chains, I stared up at them in awe as they began to speak to me, noticing my presence beneath him as he attempted to break his chains.
“ Come closer. Fear not, lamb, for though you are already dead, I still have need for you . ” He spoke in a deep, soothing tone, though it seemed the two figures standing to his sides shuddered at the tone of his voice. I felt an odd comfort, in an odd place.
“ Those foolish Bishops thought they could keep you from me in death. But instead they sent you straight to me . ” I nodded, listening to him speak. My eyes glistened as I stared up at him, intently listening.
“ I will allow you to be reborn once more, but it will come at a price. ” My ears flicked, I felt my chains unlock as my arms went free as he spoke, “ All I simply ask for you is to start a cult in my name, do we have a deal? ” He offered, stretching one of his large, bony hands towards me to shake.
“Absolutely, my liege.” I nod, taking a deep breath, locking my hand with his, as I looked up at him again, he had a wide grin. Soon, the crown atop his head flew off, an eerie red flame, emitting from it as it did, soon resting atop my head.
A surge of power flowed through me, my bisected corpse rejoining as I felt the flesh sewing itself together and the blood joining back into my body, no longer staining my wool.
Rising from the altar, reborn anew, blade in my hand given by the power of the Crown, I cut down my executioners and spectators to my death, the red blood spilling from their forms, all from the slash of a blade, a power granted to me by the one that saved me from death.
Someone I feel enamored by, feeling an odd comfort despite others’ fear, an odd sense of warmth in their stare that would otherwise seem cold to others.
My feelings for him stood strong, to the heretics that stood before me now kneeling, those who put me to the blade, now deceased.
My loyalty to The One Who Waits was unshakeable, an immovable force of will that will follow his every direction in a way I choose.
Though... to others, it looked like loyalty, when it really was a different feeling entirely.