"Revy, wake up."

She was being shaken on the shoulder. Revy began to stir groggily. Her back was in pain, her neck ached at the position she fell asleep in. She opened her eyes, gingerly, wincing at the bright light of late morning.

Fuck.

"Amber?" Puzzled, Revy sat up.

Fuck.

Her body was still aching, fatigued, and hurting ten times more than it had before. She slumped in the couch, exhaling heavily.

Fuck.

Amber was followed by a small entourage of maids, and they quickly went to prepare the baths. She didn't. Amber knelt in front of her and took her hand between her own.

"Revy," she said, surprisingly gentle, "your father wants to see you."

Revy couldn't stop the bark of laughter. "That's rich. What took him so long?" With no humour, she laughed again, the sound tearing itself from her sore throat.

"He had to..." Amber was fretting, looking at what seemed to be every piece of furniture in the room instead of meeting Revy's eyes.

Revy leaned in. "Had to?"

"He had to deny... the allegations," she said in a soft voice. Revy had never seen Amber this petrified.

It took a moment for those words to sink in. "Allegations."

"Yes."

"For?"

Amber refused to look at her. "Oh, Revy," she whispered. "Your hair..."

"Amber." Revy's eyes narrowed. "For? Allegations against me for?" she pressed. Amber's hands were sweaty.

"Revy, dear..." She sighed heavily, the frown on her face deepening, weighing down her features and revealing all the years Amber wore. "I don't think it should come from me..."

Revy dear. All of it really had gone so, so, so wrong.

"Amber," she pleaded now, and the tone in her voice made Amber look at her. Finally. "What happened to me last night?"

The look in Amber's eyes was heartbreaking.

"Amber, dear Night, please just tell me."

"Revy—"

"Amber!" The frustration of the previous night came rushing back to her. Revy felt the similar feeling of sudden heat, racing through her and pushing out—

Amber let go off her hand.

It caught on fire.

"It's true!" Amber whimpered, staggering to her feet, eyes wide and alarmed. "Oh, I didn't think it was true!"

Fire.

"I can explain—" she reached out for her, desperately. The flames grew stronger, brighter. "I don't know what's happening!"

"You burned last night," Amber explained in a hurry, hands shaking and eyes on the fire. "You burned the crown. The wooden throne caught on fire."

That doesn't make sense.

"They are calling you the cursed queen!" Amber said, now there were tears in her eyes. She was backed up against the wall. "You burned up! It was so sudden! And then the fire was spreading, the royals were running and using their powers against—against you!"

Fuck.

Revy stared at her hands. Orange had turned to blue, and now the fire spread to her arms. It was eating her whole. She was so scared and she didn't know what was happening and where did this come from—

"Get to the baths, Revy," Amber said, taking another two steps away from her.

Fuck.

"Amber, please listen—"

"I said go to the baths, Revy!"

Startled, Revy obeyed. Her body aching and her hands on fucking fire, she dashed to her baths. She ignored the startled gasps of the maids around her and sunk right in. Steam rose.
Maids stepped back.

"The water is boiling," one of them with brown hair said to the other. And then the same maid looked at her, curtsied, her voice trembling. "Your Majesty, our orders were to prepare you for a meeting with the Council and your father. Will there be..." the maid paused, "new orders?"

Tentative.

She was being offered... freedom? A chance to run? Was it that bad?

Revy curled into herself in the tub. She thought about it. She didn't know where this came from. If anything, from the wide extension of Analide history lessons from the best masters, fire as an elemental power was unheard of. As rare as magic already was in this day and age—usually appearing amongst the aristocrats who preserved the blood lines, moderate gifts amongst the common folk, weak or almost impossible for the poor—this was even rarer.

"No new orders," Revy said softly. If she would face this, she would face her fucking father with nothing but defiance.

The maid frowned. "Your Majesty? Are you sure?"

"Yes." She turned to look at them, offering a smile, even when it pained her. "No new orders. But please fix my hair."

~

Revy was escorted towards the meeting.

It was strange to be walked to her father by guards with water magic. The guards here, besides from rank, were coded by badges by their abilities. It made it easier to identify them in battle. And it was ironic, considering these were her men and she was their ultimate commander. it right now, it was almost like she was being treated as prisoner, all that was left was to be chained and guided at sword point.

The halls were empty.

Revy stalked into the throne room.

"There she is," her father's voice rumbled. Her eyes swept the room quickly, noting how there were more guards than usual blocking all exits, water-inclined, and none of them were her trained men. The King sat on his dark and oh-so-mighty throne, relaxed languidly like the spoiled aristocrat he really was—disturbing thing to see for a man in his fifties. And Council was present too, seated on a panel on the right side of the throne, flipping through books and muttering to each other. They stopped to look at her.

Shock. Disbelief.

The throne room today looked more like something of a trial. Normally, the curtains would be thrown wide open to let the Analidian sun in. But now they were drawn, thick and heavy orange velvet. The Analide style of architecture was meant to be inviting and hospitable, so the throne wasn't completely on a pedestal and the ceiling high enough, but not too intimidating.

But right now, Revy could expect a death sentence from the spoiled, horrible people of Analide's politics.

Fun.

Micah was there. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment, but his face was emotionless. Nothing else. Which was odd of him, normally he'd offer even a half smile or a stupid wave.

Fuck.

Revy turned back her attention to her father.

He was looking at her with dark, hateful eyes. Revy ignored it. She stood with her back straight and her chin high, composing herself. "You have caused quite a lot of trouble, Princess Reverie."

Fuck you.

Revy clenched her jaw, inclined her head. "I apologize for doing so."

"You have been roused late, arrived late, and now," her father sighed heavily, "we will decide what to do with you."

Her spine went rigid.

No.

They couldn't possibly mean—

"From the Ancient Law and traditions of our Kingdom, you must be aware that to be eligible for Queen..." Her father began holding up fingers as he recited each one. "You must be of age, first born, and worthy of the stars."

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

"Unfortunately for you, you meet all but one." He spread his hands. "I'm sorry, Princess Reverie, but there's nothing I can do."

"But..." Revy, for once in her poor life, has lost all words. There were no words to be spoken. There were no words to defend herself.

She had lost.

"I, and the Council, would have gladly made an exception for you. But, well..." her father shrugged. "You haven't exactly had a golden track record, have you? Sneaking out at night to bed women, ignoring your responsibilities, using the money of the people on Night knows what. If your people knew that, they'd be so ashamed and bothered by Queen Reverie of the masses, don't you think?"

Fuck you.

Revy spoke in that careful, casual way even when her heart raced and her palms sweat. "You are going to deny me ascension to the throne." She stated it as fact. Nothing but bare words.

Fuck you. Fuck you to eternal hell.

Her father spread his hands. "You know the Ancient Law, Reverie."

Fuck.

The oldest Council Member, a woman named Nyan who came two generations before her, nodded. "It is our duty as the leaders of our kingdom to uphold our traditions and culture." Her voice was raspy but her eyes were sharp. "You have been deemed unfit for the throne. You commit strange and worrisome activities behind our back. No one knows where you are in the dead of night, but there is enough evidence to support our doubts on your morals."

What I do is feed the people you refuse to give food to. I give them shelter. I return their money. I am the Queen, the leader, and the person you have never been for them. How dare you question my morals.

She gave him a cold, hard, terrible stare. "The Council agrees with the King. You will and shall be denied ascension to the throne."

Fuck you. How dare you. How dare you do this to me.

The silence was deafening and it pounded in her ears.

Deep. Breaths.

Fuck.

Fuck.

How dare you.

Fuck.

"So. That's it?" Revy said into the silence. Her voice was cutting and her words were harsh. "There won't be a trial, will there? There is no debate, no chance for me to state my case, nothing?"

Silence.

"I have never served the crown," she said, her voice raw. "I have never worked towards the throne."

"You have proven that quite well, Princess Reverie," her father drawled. "You burned the one we made for you, did you not?"

She growled. She growled, the sound deep in her throat. "I have always worked for the people. I have always worked for the people you ignore, you cast away, you exploit and abuse!" Her voice rang in the hall. "And now you have the nerve to strip me off my title? To take away the only thing standing between their death and your luxury?

Her father sighed. "Princess Reverie, there is no case to be won. Unless you bring witnesses, testimonies, and proof to these claims—then we can do nothing but withhold you the throne."

"But—"

"You will be silent!"

She was breathing heavily, clenching her fists now. Dear Night, she hated these people. These awful fucking people.

"You are correct," he said loudly, a neck in his vein bulging. This was the father she knew, the clenched fists and the barely restraint anger. Revy thought that she was going to murder him. "There is no debate to be won." With a hand all too used to commanding, to getting his way, her father raised it.

"But, gladly for me and for the sake of Analide—I do not have only one heir."

Revy's heart dropped.

No.

Her father was waving Micah forward.
Micah took two steps. Revy shook her head, her dreams falling a part in front of her. She begged Micah with her eyes, begged him to look at her. And she was struggling to keep the shock out and her face in check. Emotion in these halls, with these awful, tyrant rulers—was weakness. But she was begging him now because—because—

Revy's heart was breaking.

No.

Micah did not look at her.

"We must welcome the new heir to the throne," her father looked straight into her soul, smirking and triumphant, "Prince Micah of Analide."

- -
AHHHHHHHHHHHH i love this chapter!!!!!!!! i fucking love this chapter!!!!!!!!! it's my favorite one!!!!!!!

i hope u guys enjoyed it as much as i did!! leave a vote and some feedback, loves<33

- yannah:>