The Verdant Prince

Chapter 9: Somber Dancing

Warm.

I felt warm. I exhale softly and open my eyes. I blink a few times as a white blinding light surrounds me. It was too bright, it felt like a faux light as it gave no comfort or warmth, only cold stone like characteristics. I sit up slowly, my arms aching from the small strain, and I look around.

I took in my surroundings. A soft bed that I easily sunk into with plain white sheets. The white light I presume was something of the sun casting odd shadows in the room as the curtains sway with the gentle wind. It was silent. No screams of agony, no coughing, no clinking of armor, simply silent.

It was as if I had woken up in a paradise. Except I hadn't. I had woken up in an ugly disgusting universe where gods and goddesses fell with the flick of a wrist. Powerless and useless.

They were dead.

Hatred boiled deep inside, reigniting forgotten embers. My heart beat thunders in my ears as I grew less civil. I rake the dreadful dull colored bedding off of my body and stood. I was in a fresh baby blue gown, my hair and body was washed of all the blood and grime from yesterday.

But no matter what they couldn't and wouldn't scrub the memories and hate that was forged in angry embers yesterday.

Was it yesterday? How long had I been in my apprentice quarters? Who had brought me here?

I spun around and snatch up a silver sword leaning against my dresser. I only used swords in close range against other daggers but it didn't matter. It was the closest weapon to me.

I pull open my door and I make my way cautiously down the corridor to the map room; my bare feet pattering softly against the gold tile of the palace.

Calm down Y/N. You're letting emotions cloud your every movement. A small voice in my head says.

And my lack of care and emotions got my family killed savagely. I spat back, if I weren't so angry I would have laughed. Arguing with myself.

I would have sighed in relief if I hadn't shut myself down as I hear soft talking coming from the large map room. I appear in the doorway and I scan my eyes around the people, my sword ready in my hands.

The chatter stops immediately and they look to me, pity in their eyes.

"Y/N? Release the sword please," a familiar voice says, I snap my eyes to him. To Asmund. He rests his weight on one of his hips, his broad shoulders relaxed but his arms raised slightly in a calming manner. His brows were furrowed and he wore heavy bags beneath his eyes.

"Where are they?" I ask sharply. A few of my comrades head's dip down in shame, no one answers.

"Where the Hel are they?" I shout, my voice echoing- my common sense already out the window. I plant my feet firmly and I look around frantically.

"You're in no position to be here nor ask that of us." Orgnar snaps, his gravelly voice matching my angry tone. No one moves but Asmund. He carefully makes his way to me, taking slow cautious steps as if he was walking on eggshells.

"Don't you ever tell me that I have no position to ask that of you." I say lowly, my voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "My family was slaughtered first by their foul blades. Burned for sheer fun. My little sister hiding beneath the bed, her last thoughts most likely prayers to the gods and goddesses she wouldn't be found!" My breath hitches but I do not cry. Soldiers do not cry. Orgnar didn't drop his eyes, but he kept his mouth clamped shut. "And what of my father? Brynolf? What of he? Was he beneath the other bed?" I ask, keeping my sharp words up. I began moving forward slowly, flinging it about nonchalantly.