The Tributes (Sable)

Gaining the Queen's Attention

Sable instantly felt movement behind her and flinched, bracing herself for the oncoming lash.

"Stop!"

Sable heard the Queen's angry command, but she also heard the crack of a whip extending almost simultaneously; so she braced herself for the pain...

But, after a long second of no pain manifesting, and the only sudden sounds being that of a strange, choked gasping, she opened her eyes... and then stood in frozen shock at the sight before her:

The Queen was now standing, her right arm raised in a signal to halt, and her left arm tightly holding the hilt of a black whip, the other end of which was curled around the neck of the minister named Raoul.

The Queen's eyes were dangerously ablaze, glaring down at the minister – who was now on the floor, scrabbling at his throat and trying to choke out apologies and pleas and half-explanations.

Her still-raised right hand made a waving-off gesture, and Sable saw the dagger-guard replace his dagger and stand at ease at the signal (obviously knowing that his specialized services weren't needed at the moment).

Sable, on her part, was half-relieved and half-nauseous: relieved because she wouldn't be seeing the minister cut down; nauseous because she wasn't sure whether the Queen would strangle him to death instead. (And the very thought of that possibility was enough to make her stomach turn ominously.)

"Stop struggling, you imbecile. Unless you want to choke," the Queen commented contemptuously, curling the whip around her hand as she walked towards him, her slow, prowling strides clicking against the marble floor.

The minister halted his struggles as the Queen neared. His hands were still poised at his throat, his fingers trembling against the black whip, and his eyes were bulging and wide with terror as he breathed as hard as the whip allowed.

Sable again felt half-relieved and half-ill at the sight: The instantaneity with which he stopped at her command meant that he was not in danger of choking to death or accidentally breaking his own throat just yet. But... his immediate reaction to the command also gave Sable the awful feeling that this had happened before. Multiple times.

The Black Queen came to a stop at his side and loomed over him. "Explain yourself."

"Y-YourMajesty, a thousand ap-apol–"

A sharp tug on the whip cut him off and he cried out, making Sable wince. She caught sight of her own hands trembling and clasped them together to hide it.

"I did not ask for an apology. I asked you to explain yourself!" the Queen snapped down at him.

"Y-YourMajesty – I don't – it-it was that girl –"

"That girl saved you," she sneered, derision coating her voice. Then, her hand still tight and steady on her end of the whip, the Queen's eyes easily flicked over to Sable, scrutinizing her in a way that seemed both lazy and calculating at the same time. "The question, though," the Queen continued, her tone shifting to casualness, "is why would she?"

A languid smirk lifted one corner of her mouth, and, her eyes not leaving Sable, she leaned down ever so slightly, like she was going to discuss a juicy secret with the trembling minister. "Do you know her, Raoul?"

The minister's eyes bulged even more while he spluttered instant protests. "No-no, Your Highness! Why would I know such filth? I-I've never – !"

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," she dismissed, looking at him now with irritated disdain as she straightened. "And just when I thought you might be remotely interesting."

She dropped her end of the whip as one would a muddy shoe and turned to Sable, her entire attention diverting to her with alarming intensity.

Sable stiffened, her hackles rising at the slow smirk that touched the Queen's lips as she met her gaze.

"Well, now. Perhaps it's you who's the interesting one. Shall we see?"