They came for him in the morning. Nicaise had gotten dressed in his usual silks, and he'd only just affixed his pearls to his hair when they came through the doors. He hardly startled. Maybe part of him had been expecting them. Laurent had been right, he had less currency than he'd been counting on. He'd mistaken whispered declarations and promises as truths, he'd shaved the hair his body was starting to grow. He'd been so good.
The Regent's guards took him by the arms like a common criminal and they would give him no answers. He was lead somewhere discrete, no public spectacle for this. The Regent was his only witness, fully dressed, hands clasped behind his back. Nicaise wanted to spit in his face. Nicaise wanted him to take his face gently in his hands and tell him this was all a mistake. But it wasn't, he knew it to be true when he looked into the Regent's eyes.
Before the Regent could speak, Nicaise leveled him with a look of cool defiance, one he'd perfected during the four years he'd lived here. All he had left now was his pride, and he would not be weak. But the Regent didn't say anything at all, except, "Try to make it a clean cut."
Nicaise felt the first seize in his chest of panic, and every ounce of courage he'd just been trying to amass started to crumble. He wanted to ask if the Regent had cared for him at all. He wanted to plead for mercy, to take back what he'd said about Laurent, to take back the look he'd just given and beg for forgiveness. But his throat was tight and he could feel bile rising to escape.
The guard on his right pressed one meaty hand to his shoulder and shoved him to his knees. Nicaise would not give the Regent or any of them the satisfaction of seeing his tears. He would not appear weak. He was trembling, but he hoped they could not see. His heart hammered in his chest, but he knew they could not hear it. He stared at the ground unblinking, and he told himself it was that reason only that his eyes began to burn and tear up.
The command was given. Nicaise felt the air move next to him, he heard the sword rise, fall, a pressure on the back of his neck...
...And then...
Like a sudden splash of cold water, the air froze around him and stole his breath. His eyes had closed without him realizing, and it was bright behind his closed eyelids. When he opened them he saw white.
Snow.On the ground beneath him like it wasn't the middle of summer, his silk chemise already starting to soak from it. He finally raised his bowed head to take in the sight around him, and it was nothing like he'd ever seen before. A large, open building lay in front of him with people coming and going, a few of them spared him a curious glance before going on their way.
This is what happens when you die?( Read more... )![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
