A Reunion With Freedom

[Satu]

W E A R I N G
Set several years ago in Vestikko, Finland.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the shaft of the mine as the stocky Finnish woman made her way through the dark, dank corridors of the converted vein turned underground prison, arms lashing out at her in wild, flailing arcs from behind their barred doors as she held her chin high, slender nose thrust into the air as she ignored the undignified stench of the unwashed inmates, dirty fingers grasping at the sleeves of one of her escort that was unlucky enough to step too close to the cells. One managed to dig their long nails into her sleeve, begging the bodyguard for mercy and earning a slash of her blade across the wrist, disembodying the hand with a howl of pain and fury as the owner retreated into the darkness. The lanky, spindly woman was covered in blood from the wound she had dealt, but didn’t react with so much as a blink as she fell in line at Satu’s back once again. The blood that glistened on her face was hidden behind a curtain of honey blonde hair, but the stink of it clung to her like an aura of evil that would linger for days. The monarch did her best to ignore it, and pressed on.

After the maiming of a prisoner, the others were understandably cowed, the reaching hands fewer and farther in between, significantly less enthusiastic in their grasping as the shrieking of the wounded fell to silence as they bled out. A quiet sigh left the woman in the lead, though she showed no other signs of reacting as she continued her descent through the deep halls, her destination being the final cage, where the oldest and most dangerous of their prisoners was held; a woman that had committed a heinous crime that had left her locked away for near a full lifetime; a woman she hadn’t seen since she was but a child, and intended with every ounce of her power to see her dragged into the light that very day.

Three guards stood watch over the cell, a man, small and lean, stood between two taller women, each of them bound in the close fit leather uniform of their position, the polished sheen of their armor glistening in the light of the torch carried by the unmolested escort. “Stand aside,” Satu’s command came, cold and unforgiving, as hard as the glint in her emerald glare as she watched the trio before the door to the final cell. For a beat, nobody moved, and the short woman stood with her hands clenched at her sides, her stare set dead and level at the three of them, not an ounce of evidence that she would be denied in that gaze. The woman to their left dipped her head, acknowledging her position and offering no resistance to Satu and her escort, dark hair hiding her face as she swept herself aside and leaving her two comrades to guard their charge on their own.

She stepped toward the man, and he recoiled from the small, curvaceous redhead, but he didn’t step back. She lifted her hands and, cupping his skeletal cheeks, she pulled him down and pressed her glossy black lips to his, holding him against her face as she kissed him deep. The woman at his side grunted as the queen’s escort plunged her blade into her heart before she could blink, and she crumpled into the floor in a twisted heap as the guard stepped back, wiping her blade clean before sliding it back into the scabbard at her hip as Satu released the man. He stared at her in horror for a long moment, pure disbelief in his eyes as he looked from her to the woman at his side that had been left to guard the cell, to the other still standing quietly out of the way. He gave a light cough, and blood seeped down his lower lip. He tried to speak, to retort or to beg for his life she could not say, but could only manage a painful gurgle as his esophagus melted, eating itself and forcing blood up and into his mouth as he fought to breathe. His death was as agonizing as it was brief.

Stepping over the corpses, she approached the door to the last cell before she stopped, and looked over her shoulder at the survivor. “Remind me to replace the guards here with more of our own. These lot wouldn’t stand a chance if a real riot broke out.” Her escort closest to the woman nodded, and took the woman by the arm, her grip harsh and earning a hiss of pain, but no more complaint as she was led away, leaving Satu alone with the blonde companion and the cell door. She cant her head, and the other moved forward with the key, pulling it from her belt and opening the lock with a metallic clunk, before she pulled the slide bar aside and let the door swing open with a scream on rusty, ill-used hinges. With the torch gone, they stood before the cell and looked into the darkness deeper than that which surrounded them as her companion stepped forward, placing herself between Satu and the one she had come to visit.

Placing a hand on the back of the woman’s shoulder, Satu moved to stand at her side, instead. “Morana, sister, I have come to see you,” she said softly, offering a smile into the dark. “I have come to see about setting you free.”

[Morana]

It was the same routine, night after night. Pace, eight steps back and forth. Scream, until her lungs ached and the dust shook loose from the few books she’d been given. Curl her fingers around the bars of her cage and scrape her broken thumbnail against the chipped anticorrosive coating that adorned the steel, before pulling with every last ounce of strength she had, willing them to budge so she might be able to slip between and finally escape her personal hell. Her only reward was the burn of the steel against her palms, turning the pale skin red.

Every. *******. Night.

When the cage remained unaffected by her attempts, she slammed her open palms against the bars before slumping down, her head bowed. The only sound that bounced off the cold, damp stone that encased her was her labored breathing - and in some cases, like tonight, her curses. She’d lost track of how long she’d been locked beneath the earth with only the rats and spiders to keep her company. Then again, even they seemed to have grown tired of her presence. It’d been a few days since she had last heard the skitter of claws against the cobblestone.

Tipping her head back with a hollow laugh, she traced the cracks in the ceiling with tired, glazed eyes. The foundation would crumble soon and more than likely bury her beneath its weight. It was only a matter of time, but something told her she wouldn’t find her blissful ending that easily. Her sister, when she dared to risk the ire of their council, told her that there was a few years left within the rock, but she didn’t listen to the way it shifted each night, a quiet, ominous hum that spoke of its age far more than the indentions did. It had been her melody for more than a century, and each night, it only grew louder and more promising.

This is what you deserve, it whispered into her ear as she lay against the ground, arms wrapped tight about her stomach in an effort to keep ahold of what little body heat she could. Perhaps it told the truth. Perhaps, because she was a murderer of the worse kind, she did deserve to remain entombed with no hope of freedom. Perhaps, when the time came, and the earth finally gave in and crumbled around her, her family would rejoice and dance on the fallen stone. Not that she cared. She never shed a tear, she never broke, despite their attempts.

When the guards realized that nothing they did would ever bring a tear to her eye, they had given up. Instead of nightly visits, she had been left to silence, only being able to catch the soft hum of their laughter from behind the door every so often. Tonight, however, tonight they were quiet. It was strange that she didn’t hear even the slightest sound. Wrapping her hands back around the bars, she lifted herself to her feet and pressed her face in between the cool steel, her eyes following the soft flicker of the lone lantern as it lit the stairwell that lead to the exit.

“Herian! Herian, I know you can hear me, you lousy, fat ********!”

Nothing but silence answered her call, and she growled, her fingers tightening their hold until she swore she felt the steel give. It was in her imagination, however, the bar remaining as stubborn and intact as ever. “HERIAN.” Her voice gave on the last call, the rasp causing her to cough and sputter. It had been days without water - even longer without food. Had she been mortal, she knew without a doubt she would have perished long before now. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she glared up at the door and waited. One minute. Two. Three. Surely he would have the compassion to at least peek in, but -- no. There was absolutely nothing.

Nothing until finally, there was the softest hint of feet against stone. Taking a step back, she watched as the door opened, the light illuminating two small frames, causing the shadow they cast to seem more monstrous than human, until the familiar face of her sister broke through the dark.

“It’s taken you long enough, sister,” she replied, one hand pressing through tangled, unwashed hair as she turned her gaze to her counterpart. “Who is that?”

[Satu]

Moving to take her sister’s face in either of her hands, she shook her head, and leaned up high to place a kiss to the younger woman’s brow. She shook her head and released her, turning to look at the woman that Morana had addressed her question for, and she gave a withering smile. “This is Arijana Eskova, the first of my bodyguards.” She gave the woman a twitch of her brow, and the blonde dipped her head in a show of respect to the darker haired woman. She made to speak, but was cut off with a wave of Satu’s hand.

“The situation upstairs has changed rather… drastically in the last few hours, dear. I have taken back what was wrongfully taken from us, and have come to deliver you your freedom, and your crown. That you have had to suffer down here for so long was crime enough for the Council’s fate to be more than just.” She snapped her fingers at the blonde, and Arijana pulled a pack from her shoulder and set it on the floor at Morana’s feet. The ginger woman placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her aside again, gesturing for her to guard the door with her hand, to leave them alone.

“Some proper clothes for you, at least for as long as it takes to get you home. The riffraff don’t need to be staring.” She gave a derisive scoff at the expense of the unwashed masses that still managed to moan and wail somewhere off in the darkness of the prison. She moved to place herself down on the small stone shelf she was left with to call her bed, already resigned to need to burn the dress after this trip into the mouth of hell was over. None of that, however, seemed to dampen her spirit as she offered a wide, toothy smile at her sister. She watched to see how the news settled on her, that she was to be free; more, that she was to be a queen.

Her palms rested on her knees as she took in her surroundings, a potent mix of emotions ebbing and flowing through her as she did. Chief among them was relief that she was getting the other out of this hole, though even that was nearly dwarfed by the rage that made her tremble uncontrollably, even if she didn’t notice it herself. That her beloved sister was left in a place like this to wither and rot until she died, it lit every nerve of hers on fire with adrenaline, and she found that killing those responsible had been rash. She wanted to do so much more.

She gave an angry sigh and let her emerald gaze slide back to the other as she waited for her to dress. “There have been a lot of whispers making their way to my ears over the course of the last few years. Things that you and I need to discuss. But they will wait, until we have you cleaned and fed, and you have had a night’s rest in a proper bed.”

[Morana]

The touch – though humane, gentle – was enough to send her stumbling back, a low hiss piercing the dark as she glared at the woman. The warning was all that was needed. Lifting her hands, she smoothed them down what remained of the filthy cloth that covered her emancipated form in tatters. For a moment, it looked as if she cared about her appearance, before she plucked a spider that clung to one of the barren threads and carefully placed the arachnid on the ground at her feet. A pale hand lifted, demanding they all remain still, until it had skittered across the cobblestone and safely out of sight. Only then did the woman turn her attention back to her sibling, a dark brow arching as she listened.

“I should not have been made to suffer at all,” she snapped, her tone indignant as she kept a careful eye on the blonde. There was something off about the woman, something she didn’t trust – not that she trusted anything anymore – but… the way she moved was controlled, like a marionette dancing for their master’s amusement. What secrets have you uncovered, my darling sister? How far have you truly gone? The question echoed in her mind but never left her lips. Instead, she took a step closer once the strange blonde had vanished from sight, and waited until the clothing was placed in her hands. As she hastily pulled the material over her head, she shot the other woman a look of wry – and brief – amusement once her head popped through.

“They have seen all of me already. What does it matter if they stare?”

She didn’t bother to straighten her hair. It was too much of a mess. Too many tangles. Too much dirt. She had been isolated on her knees for far too long, left to slumber in the soil with no basin in sight. Covered in insects, making friends with the vermin that scrambled about night after night. That had been her legacy – or, at least – that is what they had hoped to be her legacy. That underestimated the strength in their veins. They thought the connection between the sisters would diminish over time. They hadn’t a clue that Satu had been biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. There had been times they had almost convinced Morana that she was alone – but she was too stubborn, too prideful, too twisted – to fall for their mind games. With a low growl, she swept her hand against her pale face and turned dark, glittering eyes to the ginger with a smile that could only be described as dangerous.

“I want to leave this place as soon as possible. Lift yourself from your knees, sister. Let us not give them a second more of satisfaction. I’ve already spent far too much time locked in their cage, beneath their watchful eyes. It is time that I am released. It is time I have my revenge.”