Black Rose | Complete |

| nine |

(A/N: The music above is heavily tied to this chapter - I'd suggest you click it!)

The man has a vial, the girl has a knife and the eldest has nothing at all.

The girl is dragged alongside him as he storms out towards the gardens, a slender hand gripping in vain at his relentless figure. She cannot let it go this way, she cannot.

"Wait, I want to make her suffer."

He grits his teeth. His pace does not slow.

"And suffer she will."

The girl grows desperate, digging her heels into the ground to spin the man towards her. She knows he could have her killed for this but she knows that if she cannot make him play her game then she is already doomed.

"Then kill her before she knows," the girl pleads. "Have the maid poison the wine. I have an antidote, two, enough for the both of us. As she dies, you can tell her by whose hand it was."

The girl reaches up, brazenly turning the man's eyes towards her own. His gaze tells her exactly what she needs to say.

"By yours, my King."

The man watches the eldest, whilst the girl's eyes scour the man's face for any sign that his anger has faltered. It has not. Words are exchanged - the man leads, the girl answers and the eldest does not speak until spoken to.

The man calls up the maid and an order is given. The girl turns her eyes towards the eldest, and yet no eye contact is made from beneath the black veil. She tilts her head ever so slightly, waiting for confirmation, but the eldest does not react.

The girl presses a slip of paper into her hands.

"I will see you at the coronation."

Red lips curl upwards as the girl stands and exits her room, a maid following dutifully behind. Her black dress rustles as she rushes to lock her door, pressing her ear against the heavy wood as she peels apart the folded note. Dark eyes race across lines of ink, peeling apart the text with measured diligence. The words tell her to trust the girl and yet the handwriting tells her more. She has been forced to play this game for long enough that she knows.

The maid brings forth a pitcher of the kingdoms finest wine, carefully pouring the dark liquid before disappearing once again. The man presses the vial into his hand, unafraid as he downs the contents of his glass. The eldest raises her glass to her lips with trembling hands, and the girl sips down half of her wine. The eldest drinks. The man smiles, white teeth glinting daggers in the low light of the garden. 

The eldest watches him with veiled eyes, eyes that sharpen ever so slightly when the man raises something in his palm to his lips. The girl mirrors the man's actions with a racing heart, but one white-knuckled hand grips her knife beneath the table. He drinks the contents of the vial. She does not.

The eldest presses her back against the door, nimble fingers lighting a black candle. She knows that the man is insane, and she knows that he keeps guards close by at all moments. She knows that if she screams they will not come, but she knows the phrase that will bring them running. She watches as the flame licks at edges of the note, and she watches as the girl's words burn. 

The man collapses, wailing in agony, but the girl ignores him. Her mission is not done. Not until the eldest is dead.

The girl rises but the eldest knows; she has already fled from the table, black gown slipping into the shadows. The girl is faster as she races to block the figure in black from leaving the confines of the garden. She slashes with her blade but the eldest is quick. The knife rips the veil but does not pierce the skin. The eldest steps back but trips on the heavy material of the black dress and is sent tumbling to the ground. 

The girl advances, knife poised high - too high. One kick to her exposed stomach is enough; enough to send her sprawling backwards, and enough to sink the knife she holds into the dead man's body.

Daiyu scrambles to her feet, pulls off her tattered veil, and screams.

"She's killed the King!"