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The Traitor

The Traitor

By Lozza

Violet Dawn, her dark eyes swept the room, searching for signs of weakness from the rebels; she smiled as one of them twitched his eye. She breathed in deeply, smelling his fear and the lies crawling through his blood. Her black boots thudded against the cold, blood smeared stone as she strode towards the half-naked man hanging in chains. He stared at her in the eye, refusing to back down; he raised his chin in defiance.
“You dare rise against the princess?” her high voice inquired, her hand came up and hit his cheek with the back of her hand, drawing blood.
The man managed a smile, this fuelled Violet’s anger “You’re going to die” he whispered to her, triumphantly.
A growl rumbled through her and in an instance her hand reached the dagger hidden in her cloaked body and stabbed him in the stomach, receiving a piercing cry from the man. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear “not before you” she smiled as his last breath escaped his pitiful body.
She spun around, her back to the lifeless hanging man. Violet knew he had died triumphantly and that unsettled her. The other men had their eyes to her, glistening with fear. Violet stared them all down, the fury in her dying down, but it never left.
“You men are a disgrace to the world, you dare condemn yourselves?” her unusually bright blue eyes pierced through their souls, opening them up to her, she smiled and saw their lives before her. They had families, more to mourn for them, excellent.
Violet shivered, the coldness of the dungeon was excruciating.
There were four more men, the one to her right was lying on the stone black table in the middle of the dungeon, and he was bleeding and whimpering.
She took pity on the poor man on the table and she gracefully stepped over to him, she laid her four fingered hand on his wound, a stab to the stomach. She leaned over gently and brushed her lips across his bloodied stomach and strands of her hair left her and stitched their way through the man’s skin.
All this while the other three rebels were hanging on chains around the small square dungeon, they stared at the Princess’s power, almost drinking the radiating power running off her pale skin. They were going to become addicted to her essence.
Violet felt no emotion as the man on the table screamed and writhed in pain.
She stood up, looking down at the man gasping and crying. She felt her gut twist with pain herself. Having gifts was both a blessing and a curse.
Suddenly she felt a huge wave of sadness and regret. It was the man’s feelings. He had a wife at home bearing child, he had gotten into this rebellion because he didn’t make enough gold to feed himself let alone a wife and child.
Sympathy washed over Violet, she felt this strange yearning to free this man, to make his life better and to help care for the small child waiting to be fed and the homeless wife waiting for her love to return, sadness filled her stomach and tears were caught in her throat.
She growled, sudden anger taking over, how dare he try to make her fall. Violet was going to leave this man to her sister. Let him try all he wants, his fate would never change.
She spun around, her blood red dress spinning out like a spiral.
“You have claimed rebellion, you shall die” she stated, bearing no emotion in her voice, just the cold hardness of her tongue.
Violet found herself striding towards the man with what seemed to blonde hair, but it was difficult to tell with the dirt in his hair mixed with his own blood. He had no shirt and only a ragged piece of material to cover him. He looked up, daring not to look her in the eye.
“High Princess Violet Dawn, Là'Omàtchí, last of the ancients En'Kà and first daughter of the royal family, please look into my heart and mind, I open myself up to you, I am not a rebel, I am innocent, I have done no crime or harm to the people. Please Princess Violet Dawn, Là'Omàtchí, I have a family and my wife bears child, I beg you” He whimpered, his voice broke at the end, choked with emotion. For a moment Violet felt sympathy, but she casted the feeling aside. She glided over to him, daring him to look into her eyes, he did not rise. She put her four fingered hand on his chest, over his heart. She felt it beating an irregular beat, she frowned and bit her lip, her perfect mask disappearing. She closed her eyes and searched him, she felt him cringe and gasp and a smile crept across her blood red lips.
She sought his mind with fury, nothing. This man was of innocence, an image flashed in her mind, faltering her smile. It was an image of him and the rebel she had just killed, the confirmed rebel hit him in the stomach and Violet could feel the pressure of the blow on her abdomen as the rebel quietly threatened something to him, the image flashed black.
Her eyes snapped open, his eyes were looking deep into hers, his eyes were emerald green, enchanting as hers.
“What did you have to do with that man?” she questioned him, her face inches from his, she felt his ragged breath on her, his eyes filled with fear.
She pulled him into her eyes, enchanting him; his eyes were lost as he stared into her, a grin stretched across her perfect face.
“I must not say” he whispered.
Violet tilted her head
“He is dead” she pointed to the cold body across the stone dungeon “You have nothing to fear but me” she spat.
The man flinched at her words, his eyes lowered to the ground, even in the freezing dungeon he was sweating.
“He threatened my family if I told anyone about their plans, I saw them in an alley and I had to swear on my life not to tell. Please, save my family” he cried, silver tears trailing down his face.
“What do you know? As part of the people in the land you have a duty to tell me what I want to know” she reminded him, her voice ringing around the room.
The man whimpered, she caressed his face and he replied instantly.
“Tonight, while you slept, they were going to kill you...your personal guards…”he trailed off, looking away.
Violet grew impatient, but she knew the way around this man, gentleness and he shall speak, cruelty and he will not say a word.
“My guards?” she prompted gently.
The useless man took a deep breath, his expression turned vicious.
“Traitors!” He spat.
Violet cloaked her surprise.
“Thank you. Is there anything else?” she asked politely, hiding her rage well.
The unimportant man hung his head low in despair.
“No princess. Are you going to kill me now?” his voice was filled with sadness and emptiness at the same time, accepting what he thought was his fate.
But Violet did not work like that, though she seem vicious and cruel, she was fair. That man had built a rebellion against her; he had to pay for that. But this man was honest to her and she respected him now.
“What is your name?” she asked gently.
The man looked away “Calaen Creed”
Violet nodded and strode over to the stone door. “Calaen Creed, you shall serve me.” She paused, listening to his heart race and the others sink. “As for the rest of you, I leave you now to my sister, Rozella Dawn.” The men immediately yelled at her and fought against their rattling chains. They cursed her.
Violet opened the door and stepped out. The warmth of the candles embraced her with open arms, she shuddered. Her younger sister, only the age of seven, Rozella Dawn was brutal and cruel. She stood in front of Violet, her short, torn and dirtied white dress hanging just above her knees. In her right hand she held her mark, the rose.
“Did you leave any for me sister?” Rozella asked, her childlike voice echoing down the halls.
Violet smiled.
“Of course sister, four fully grown men just for you, enjoy.” Rozella grinned, her red hair falling over her black cat-like eyes.
Rozella looked past Violet, her body became transparent and glided forward, making her shiver as her sister passed through her own body.
She tried her best to ignore the screams behind her; she didn’t allow herself to feel their pain, to see what she was doing.
Violet looked at the two guards standing in front of her. “You.” she pointed to the guard on the left. “Go fetch my brother, Luke Dawn immediately, take him to the General Patronus” she ordered. The experienced warrior bowed and left, leaving her with the younger warrior. “Where is General Patronus?” she growled.
The young warrior was sweating; she could hear his heart racing and his blood pumping, “This way, Princess.” he turned and walked forward, clenching his shaking hands.
Violet followed him reluctantly, keeping her distance.
They walked down the long corridors of the kingdom, candles lighting their way. She ignored the beautiful paintings on the walls and kept her eyes trained on the young warrior ahead of her. Violet’s leather boots thudded quietly against the rich red carpets, she made almost no noise at all. Her traitorous guard on the other hand was making unbearable noise, his chain metal armour rattling along with his sword and his hard metal boots.
They reached the end of the long, painting filled corridor, two large black doors with pure gold handles led to the General’s chambers.
Her guard opened the door without making a sound, to Violet’s surprise, she expected an ambush but instead she found the General leaning over a wooden table in front of the brick fireplace, looking at his war plans.
He looked up towards them and his eyes widened. Immediately he unsheathed his sword and was in front of her guard in seconds, the tip of his blade at his throat.
“Princess, get away from him!” he growled and Violet obeyed, walking into the General’s room and standing behind him.
The treacherous man was sweating, his hands twitching and tears threatened to overflow his green eyes, his body went rigid.
“Kill him” The Princess ordered, and no sooner had the murderous words left her lips had the General push his sword into the guard’s throat.
The blood poured from the man’s lips, his eyes were wide with shock and his throat was covered in his blood, drenching his clothes. His arms fell limply at his side and his knees buckled.
The General pulled the sword out and sheathed it, allowing the man drop dead to his knees. The Princess turned to the General. “How did you know?” she questioned, her curious blue eyes searching him.
He straightened up. “I have spies and I confirmed their suspicions, didn’t you see the way he walked? He was nervous; I could tell he was one of the traitors my spies have told me about.” He informed her, his own eyes searching the room.
Violet’s eyes sharpened. “Why didn’t you inform me of this?”
The General walked back over to his war plans. “I was only reported of this at Dusk.” His eyes lowered.
Violet’s eyes narrowed. “It is dawn” she said.
He looked up, his dark grey eyes matched hers. “You were with the rebels at the time, I was not going to interrupt you. Besides, I believed one of them would spill their knowledge to you, I would think they would’ve told you about them.”
She walked towards him, taking each step carefully. “What if they didn’t?”
The General opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by two pairs of loud footsteps. Violet spun around and saw Luke, gaping at the dead guard at his feet and the other traitor standing behind Luke with the same expression.
“Sister, what is the meaning of this death before us?” He questioned his voice low and just above a whisper.
Violet saw that he had been in training, his face was sweating and he had blood trickling down the side of his pale face. His silver hair falling over his light blue eyes and his tall lanky body was dressed in a hessian shirt that outsized him and a rope tied around his waist to hold up the loose hessian pants with bare feet. Luke liked to wear peasant clothing, he wanted to see the world like the peasants do, he was sick of royal life. He had his long silver sword with a golden hilt, perfectly balanced in his left hand.
“My brother” She bowed. “My apologies.” She waited until he bowed his head in respect and understanding. “That man’s death is of no more importance to us. He was treacherous. Brother, come to me.”
Luke stepped over the body and glided over to her; he was so graceful and moved like the wind. “Sister” he stopped a meter from her. “Who can we trust?”
Violet’s eyes moved to the guard who was still standing in the doorway. “Not him.” She whispered.
Luke nodded. He turned around and walked back over to the guard. He was still staring at his brother lying dead on the ground. “Your brother was a great man.” Luke said quietly and stood just behind the guard, laying a hand on his shoulder while silent tears ran down his face. “He served us well. But he chose the wrong side and he had set his fate. Death. Unfortunately...” Luke raised his sword quietly in the other hand and pointed it towards the guard’s back. “So did you.” And drove the sword into the man’s back.

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About This Story
3 Jun, 2012
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11 mins
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