Be as You've Always Been (Lover be Good to Me)

Failure.

Ornate, chiselled quartz pillars lined with red and gold banners towered seemingly infinitely, reaching into the heavens themselves and daring them to strike. Maria was very familiar with this room, but every time it took her breath away. Not only the design of it, but the history. Thousands, if not millions of people have stood in this very hall, she could feel their spirits, their memories, grasping at her as if desperate to not be forgotten. A blood-red carpet lines the floors, a common rumour was that the carpet used to be white. When she was younger, she brushed it off as simple talk and fearmongering, but as Maria grew, she started to see the truth behind it.

Her silver chain mail clamoured softly with each step, making a tense situation even more awkward. She was done for, surely. After what happened, there was no way she was going to be forgiven. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd be killed quickly.

Maria didn't dare make eye contact, nor even look up in the general direction of the tall, golden throne. She had seen it enough times to have memorised every little detail about it – the way the early morning sun litters shades of red, blue, yellow, and green through the room as its light pulsates through the stained-glass windows; the way the stone walls stood taller than she could ever imagine, carrying a similar weight and pressure to what stacked on her own shoulders. Sat comfortably in the throne was the man who owned her. He tugged invisible strings, pushing her to one knee. Maria's rough, calloused hands glistened with droplets of sweat as her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted, the muscles getting tighter and tighter with each shaky inhale. The man sitting before her sat with a blank expression, dark blue eyes piercing through her very soul. There's no point praying for mercy, not after how badly she fucked up, so she simply prays for forgiveness. Not from the king sat before her, but from her Gods, if they're even watching.

"Maria Hallowstone," A booming voice bounced through the chamber. His pure white hair caught the rays of the young sun, as if he was able to command that, too. She finally met his gaze, her dark eyes lit like vats of honey in the sun, shining with a radiance she lost a long time ago.

"Your highness, if I may explain myself?" Her words calm and unshaken, steady. Despite her heart pounding at her ribs, and her airways being crushed by the violent strangulation of anxity's invisible hand, keeping up appearances was a talent she held close to her chest.

The King waved his hand in an airy, dismissive motion. "There is nothing to explain. You had a job, and you failed. You are a disgrace to the coven and your fellow knights. You are a failure, and now the prince is gone."

Unable to hold his scrutinising gaze for any longer, Maria's eyes travel down to the base of the throne, roaming across each of the rubies embedded in the gold. She could not defend herself, even if given the chance, what would she say? Sorry, my bad?

"Usually, you would be hung; executed for your treason..." His voice bounces through her ears, embedding itself in her skull, like a ceaseless knocking in the depths of her mind.

"However."