"—But you're still a woman, irregardless of your societal status," the knight then earnestly pointed out, completely believing this as truth.
Regardless of whatever violation this flower may have upon her as a servant meant nothing, she would accept those consequences. After all, fighting it further would be a violation even greater, for speaking against his wishes would be disrespectful, wrongful of her. Ulyssa merely conceded to his argument, accepting it as truth.
With grace and respect, she lowered her head, allowing the knight to place the flower behind her ear. Its meek, pale yellow color vividly striking and eye-catching, wondrously clashing with the dark brown of her hair. The radiance, the subtle warmth like a tiny ember could be felt even through the knight's great helm, a gentle smile which appeared upon his pale-skinned face.
"It suits you quite well," he complimented, then taking a step back. "Anyway, forgive me. Please carry on with your duties."
Ulyssa then bowed once more, offering her respect to the knight in her company. "Thank you, sir," she expressed her gratitude, returning her focus to attending to her lord. She fixated her rusty brown eyes upon that door, that door into the room which held her lord -- her gracious, sorrowful lord. Within that room, he resided with bloodshot eyes, haunted as though the ghosts of yesterday visited him this night.
Sitting all by his lonesome was he, the heavyhearted king Balor Pallas Barn. With deep melancholy did he host this table, grieving the departure of the one who'd always sit adjacent to him at this very table. Though the central figure of his restless night, she was not the only soul to besieged him. All his atrocities harassed him, his own thoughts holding him down with vicious intent like attempting to drown him.
Yes, whereas the other night he was void of thought, this night had him completely surrounded like a wanted criminal. Cornered with nowhere to hide, all he could do was battle his way through. Yet fighting against these thoughts was like combating the air, an impossible foe to defeat. He felt the ground caving in, the carpet pulled out from under him, and it was his most trusted allies who committed this act.
Balor knew the truth in his heart, their word not required. Like a wondrous little city in a snowglobe, Governanti had become the pristine, perfect picture all kings yearn for, yet this was not enough. A mouth watering, craving a taste of power, lusting for his mantle. So tremendous was their thirst that they were willing to desert their very own blood oath of loyalty, wanting so badly to foment a coup.
They had all become like predators stalking prey, watching from the brush, planning out their move to kill. They waited for the perfect moment, his most vulnerable moment. And indeed, their patience was on the cusp of being rewarded, for the king had begun to waver, to fade. He was caught headlong in this perpetual cycle of despair, like a played out song, forced to be repeated over and over.
This sorrowful tune was all to be heard, this grand piano had lost all its teeth. All but one key remained, a heartbreaking sound over and over, a beat much like his heart. His heart but an empty shell, a sheath to conceal that which he so long feared to admit. Everything had been stolen, lost, so deeply had he become in his thoughts that not even light or sound could find him now.
Balor's deep blue glowing eyes turned onto the mahogany table beneath him, a smooth, shiny surface which reflected the light of the moon above. He could see himself looking back up at him, gazing down upon a hollow husk of a man. What a pathetic sight, he surely thought. This year and a half had ruined him, turning him to stone, and such a porous being could only look and act strong.
However, this king's mind would be pulled back into this abyss labelled reality, the sound of two soft, considerate knocks ushered their way into this vacant threshold. His eyes scurried hectically to that sound, wanting urgent relief from this strife his mind had become. Yet he was no believer in make-believe, well aware that
she
could not be behind that door.
"...Enter," he permitted in an exhausted, silently stressed tone.
Upon his allowance, the door then slowly pulled inwards, revealing the one soul this king had become oddly entranced by -- the last person anyone ever suspected he'd become fast friends with. The human servant Ulyssa stepped into the room like treading upon sacred ground, making certain not to disrupt her lord.
She closed the door behind her, stepping forward to present herself to her lord. A few steps away now from the door, yet it would suddenly, sluggishly crack open. Outside the room was that protector of the door, that Loyal Knight whom bestowed Ulyssa that unusual flower. The subtle glow of his eyes piercing through the crack in the door, carefully observing the king and his servant.
Ulyssa's rusty brown eyes scanned her surroundings as she walked in, finding her lord at the table in the center of this room. A state of distress, an S.O.S without any hope of a response. His plight was very lucid, well captured upon his face. She made no attempt to consult her lord, appearing before him as courteous and as dignified as a gentlewoman.
"My lord," she named with utmost respect. "Have you any further need of my services?"
Balor didn't even budge at her presence, not looking upon her. He held himself down, not turning away from his pain. "No," he immediately declined, not giving it any thought at all.
"Then, with your consent, may I retire for the night?" she humbly requested.
"Do as you wish..." the king answered her, quietly, painfully did his voice speak.
Ulyssa then reeled her body back straight up, standing tall and sturdy on her feet. She turned away from her lord, leaving him to fight this war all by himself. It wasn't any of her business, she knew, yet... some truly nagging sense of trouble wore on her heart. These unexplained feelings attempting to get the best of her, but getting in the middle of his affairs would be unreasonable, unethical.
Yet like digging through dirt and hitting bedrock, even Ulyssa could easily detect something was wrong just below his surface. To leave her lord in his state would be no different than abandoning him, leaving him to die. With her hand on the doorknob, one step away from leaving his presence, she succumbed to the pull.
This worried young servant turned right back around, looking upon her lord with genuine concern in her heart. She set foot into the oncoming moon, getting drenched in the silvery spotlight. "Is... everything well, my lord?" Ulyssa hesitantly, cautiously questioned, not desiring to further her lord's tension.
Hearing her voice speak with such sincere concern was enough to breathe back life into his lungs, his eyes drawn to her as she basked in the moonlight. She appeared so differently within the pale radiance, this ravishing, spellbinding beam which soaked her like a shower of white. There was a certain glow about her, and such beautiful incandescence broke him down into pieces and compelled him to speak.
He was a locked door, and it appeared that she held the key to unlock him. It required bare minimum effort, but a voice to speak. How vexing was this coming, so maniacal did Balor believe it to be. She, a creature whom he once loathed and rejected, now the only thing he had left in this world, this world which sought to destroy him. A human he found adoration for, a human close enough to these iron gates to reach in and unlock them.
"I am..." Balor's voice rose with reluctance before dying out like a fire deprived of oxygen, turning his face away from her. He sighed with grief, emptying himself of this misdirection, this blatant lie. "...Has there ever come a time in your life where everything and everyone before you appears to alter, even as they appear the same?"
Ulyssa quietly nodded in agreement, knowing well this pain which Balor professed. She had been experienced a lot in her short life upon this plane, but such was the expectations of the life of a human. She strangely ached at his sight, pained by these words which he spoke. No, she could never will this suffering upon another, not even her most despised enemy -- a most despised enemy of which should be he who stood before her.
Balor's eyes burrowed further into this table with much angst, clutching together his teeth in his mouth, grasping his hands tightly around the other. He was on the verge, this edge which was creeping up on him. A dying king traversing a wasteland, his crown the flock of vultures which circled above his head, eagerly awaiting to pick at the bones of his fallen empire.
"...All have shown me their back," the king expressed grievously. "They speak words wiped with honey whilst uttering whispers of contempt. They embrace me and this empire whilst sharpening their daggers to see both cease. There is no one who wears a single face, no one who uses their tongue in truth. No, not even my most trusted ally is exempt to this..."
The young, brown-haired servant watched his plight like a wall of glass stood between her and her lord, her inexperience proving to be her undoing. She knew not the words that she could put together, looking on in agonizing silence. Her wondrous lord a ball of yarn now, unraveling before her very eyes. Feeling as a failure, unable to perform her duty, unable to do anything to ease his horrible malady.
She simply continued to cast her rusty brown irises off in her lord's direction, watching then as he slowly arose from his chair. His eyes, they gazed upon the soulless yet soulful state of his city, devoured by the cold light of the night. Balor peered beyond his table side, beyond this room-turned-prison-cell, his eyes seeking out the view of his picturesque city.
"...Governanti is such a beautiful city, is it not?" Balor asked somberly. "The entirety of my life has been spent serving it, but equally so has it been spent desiring it. The city, the crown, the empire, the sword... My sister and I oftentimes found our minds wandering when we were little, we always imagined ourselves growing up and forging our kind's dream Utopia together."
Balor then let out a faint, gentle smile, fondly recollecting those days. "Lucia dreamed of erecting a tower right in the heart of the city," he warmly recalled, his voice reflected his agony and sorrow. "She desired a tower so tall that the clouds were but a mere fingernail away, so that all might gaze down and marvel at this magnificent world that we birthed. I always used to tell her that it was an impossible feat, but if she desired it so, then I would will away the impossibility. I would swear to her that I would order my tens of thousands of loyal subjects to construct it for her, even if it meant being my first and last declaration as king."
His voice reached the conclusion of his sad happy memories, his smile falling off of his face. It was but a front, a mask, his most candid shade of blue revealed beneath this façade of happiness and glee. He stumbled upon deep, cruel thoughts on his way downwards, this darkness which consumed every inch of his mind.
"More so than not do I find myself yearning for the return of those days... Innocent, careless..." Balor went on, gazing out to the remarkable, yet terrible world. "...But the hands of time cannot be turned back, such days shall exist now only in bittersweet recollections. And it was by my hand that they were locked behind that door, such happiness allowed the light no more. I bestowed her not the finest days of her life, not glorious towers and infinite elation as I promised. I offered her nothing, but I took from her everything! I stole away her friends, her family, everything! I have long justified every sacrifice as offerings to our new world, I deluded myself to believe that the blood I spilt was not in vain. I thought that casting my father aside would be the initiation, that I could begin building this world that my sister and I always dreamt of. But I see the truth now... I killed him only for a useless trinket and an empty chair."
Listening to her lord's raw outpour was heartbreaking, yet the finale of his agonizing discharge was an oddity. He professed a truth, a statement against his own born just a year and a half ago. It would seem Raphael was a scapegoat, a lamb sacrificed to the ruthless plot of Balor Pallas Barn. He pushed that young man out of his way, made him pay for his own crimes, forever costing him his life. Balor stole Raphael's life, he stole everything, and it was his hands which were in fact covered in the former king's blood.
The king's emotional disburdening ceased, his voice breaking with each word. With tears in his eyes did he speak, the most sincere, truthful confession he had ever given to anyone, even to whom he claimed the pinnacle of his existence. He spoke from deep within his heart, free of the shackles and bounds of his mind and thought.
Yet once Balor garnered his mind, he was quick to locate one fault in his words. Regrettably, horribly, wrongfully, he told Ulyssa of his crimes, of his ugly transgressions -- she, a person who knew nothing of it before. He felt thoroughly sick to his stomach upon this realization, his eyes widening as he briefly lost all trace of himself.
She was made known of the truth now, of his dastardly iniquity. Balor knew that he couldn't let her leave his sight, allow her to walk out of this room with her life...
His heart sunk like a stone casting into a lake of despair, his facial expression turned pitch black. This realization clouding all sense of logic and reason, feeling threatened and petrified by her new sense of knowledge. It would be a fatal mistake to trust her, to trust anyone... His body slowly turning around, his soulless sapphire blue eyes piercing into her.
And still, even having heard this truth, Ulyssa appeared without judgment. She stood there as solidly as a mountain, unmoved by his confession. This mistakenly delivered truth was undeniably surprising to her, but the young servant maintained her composure, her steadiness. She did nothing, watching on without motion as her lord looked dead at her.
And even as his hand reached for his blade, Ulyssa was still without change. With Arbandor's handle firmly in grasp, Balor began to pull it out from its ornamented scabbard. It literally took all the might in him to rip it out, battling himself with every centimeter of movement. It was a truly a terrible, heart-wrecking thing he intended, to kill the only loyalty, the only friend he had remaining in this land.
As cruel and horrible as it were, Balor couldn't allow anyone to know this truth, for it could jeopardized everything he killed all of those people for. The idea left a deep, loathsome hole in his heart, but he knew that he had to do it. He stepped forward, charging at her, wielding Arbandor in his hand.
Using his immense speed passed on in his Solasúian blood, Balor suddenly appeared just inches from her within his second step. Ulyssa then felt his hand as it rammed into her chest, sending her staggering backwards into the wall. Her back up against the wall now, but quickly did her rusty brown eyes stare down an even more present force before her. The glistering luster of the king's blade found its way to her, its inconceivably sharp edge held against her throat.
The two now just inches shy from one another, so close that they could feel the warm touch of the other's breath upon them. All Ulyssa could stare at was her lord's face, his eyes so fraught with remorse and self-anger. He looked upon his servant with such heaviness, wanting to speak one last thing to her before he stole away her life.
"It seems I am incapable of avoiding bloodshed, no matter what I do..." he lamented in his despair. "Forgive me, and even if you cannot, I understand. This is far beyond what I wanted, but I... I cannot allow anyone to know."
Balor required his blade to be put to her throat, trying to put aside his sentiment, his attachment to her. He demanded every yield of will and strength in him to just swing his right arm slightly, to merely get this anguish done and over with. Yet something held him back, a force which restrained his arm, which kept him from taking her life.
His emotional, glowing sapphire blue eyes met with her rusty brown eyes, locating a tender sense of understanding within them. Ulyssa then closed her eyes and lowered her head, calmly and fearlessly accepting this life coming to an end. She did not beg, did not attempt to sway his mind. She was but a tool to her lord, and if he desired her life, then she would unconditionally, willfully surrender it.
Yet that split second peek into her eyes and Balor knew, there was no harshness, no negative feelings residing within her heart. In that instant, he saw her care for him, her concern for him, and her empathy in his struggles. Perhaps she couldn't completely comprehend his woes, but she knew what it was like to cloister up inside, to run from the truth.
As he fought so perilously against himself, something grabbed his eye, something small, colorful, and alluring. Balor carried his hollow eyes off of Ulyssa for but a brief moment, dragging them over to his left. He found then that beautiful pale yellow flower kept behind Ulyssa's right ear, a sight which forced his eyelids to retract inside his head.
Although he expected his mind's focus to be lost for a second, it became lost for an eternity. Yes, Balor knew immediately just what that flower was. His memories scattered like leaves in the wind, remembering crisply those pale yellow pedals which danced around him and his sister as they dashed through their precious field of flowers. Their cherished garden, their own little slice of their kind's dream Utopia beyond the castle walls.
The sublime silver light of the moon gently trickling down upon the yellow, giving it a life all its own. The color was absolutely breathtaking, so utterly vibrant that not a soul could remove their eyes from its splendor the moment they glanced upon it. And Balor certainly wasn't exempt to this, although for him, this was far more meaningful than merely being captivated by its beauty.
Balor was immobilized, struck viciously by these memories like taking on a tidal wave head-on. His face cried out with all his grievances with such clear, graphic detail. It had been quite some time since he was last there, having been avoiding even so much as thinking about that place for the longest time. And this heartache was exactly why, feeling these thoughts completely occupy his mind.
