2018-03-05: The Sins of the Father
- Cutscene: The Sins of the Father
- Cast: Thessaly
- Where: The Empire of Rolance, Lunar
- Date: March 5, 2018
- Summary: A snapshot of the past, taken several years ago, when she carried another name and pedigree.
The cell was musty and damp; certainly not the sort of place fitting a would-be duchess. The straw mattress on the cot was nothing but a thin pallette, uncomfortable in the best of times, but the Lady Rhiannon sat upon it with her usual quiet grace. Her presence was enough to provide some measure of beauty even in her present squalor and she kept her eyes resolutely on the wall as her visitor spoke to her through the bars of her newest cage.
The tiny space looked innocuous, but she knew it was anything but - she felt them, threads of arcane power twisting over the floors and walls, meant to hold her and render any attempts at escape meaningless.
How laughable, the cat told her, poking a paw on one of the bars and visibly stiffening a yawn. Find a chink in the armor and you can unravel all of this easily. Certainly a young genius such as yourself can find one? I think they're underestimating you.
No, she replied silently; what it was suggesting was easier said than done. They did not...but it is more that they do not know what you are.
"...despite what you may have heard, your family's case was decided very carefully," her visitor said. "It isn't in the Church's interests to make powerful enemies when they can be avoided….but you can change that."
Rhiannon finally turned her head to look at him. The Legate continued:
"You have the gift of foresight," he said, standing beyond the bars of her cell and flanked by a familiar young praetor, Matthias Broome, in his distinct robes. "You could make it easier on yourself and submit to His Eminence. Lend him your talents and in doing so, you can restore yourself in your father's position in--"
"All I have to do is say yes," the lady said quietly from where she sat.
Matthias' casual lean against the wall was suddenly not so casual. He said nothing, but he eyed the Legate as he stiffened.
"What do you--"
"You brought me to the heart of your power," she continued, her stare level and calm as she looked at the Legate. "My father may have imprisoned me, but that does not mean that he was lax about my education. He did his best to teach me well."
Slowly, she rose from the cot, moving closer to the bars.
"I am not quiet because I am meek," she continued. "I am quiet so I can catch people by surprise."
Inside her mind, the cat laughed. Somewhere behind her, she felt it change form; the flick of a long tail coiled around her ankle in a possessive fashion, all around them, shadows lengthened and flickered as if alive. She felt claws rake against her shoulders through the white shift she had been made to wear, felt hot breaths wash at the back of her neck. It loomed behind her, all encompassing and radiating with fell power, the beat of downy wings forcing cold air to rush through the hall as they unfurled.
Her violet eyes moved away from the Legate. They fell on Matthias, instead.
"All I have to do is say yes," she repeated softly.
Yes, the not-a-cat sighed, its voice becoming more sibilant against her ear. Yes, my beautiful, precious one...
The Legate took several steps back, cold sweat pebbling over his brow. He saw nothing in the cell, nothing but the Lady Rhiannon, but he felt it tickle at the back of his throat, the rising of the finer hairs at the back of his neck. He was in danger, he felt it in his bones.
He fumbled for his staff but Matthias grabbed his wrist to stay him. He was smiling still - if anything, that was the most infuriating aspect of him...he never failed to do so no matter his circumstances. But he didn't look at him; the younger praetor was staring into the cage, his tanned face ashen in spite of the smile, his emerald eyes fixed not at the woman, but the wall behind her.
"What are you--"
"The Lady Rhiannon is tired," Matthias said. "As she must, given her ordeal. I wouldn't advise either of us to be hasty….and perhaps treat the lady with the respect she is due. I don't know about you, my lord, but the last thing I want is for all of this pretty architecture to come down on our heads. Isn't His Eminence directly above us, somewhere?"
Sweat trickled down his temple. His grip on his superior's wrist tightened.
Duke Lionel...what have you done?