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rainbowfic2026-04-01 12:57 am
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2026-04-01 12:57 am
Opal Jasper #10, Arclight #4
Name: shadowsong26
Story: It Was Over
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Opal Jasper #10. wrack and ruin, Arclight #4. All too obsessed by weakness/ We have brought ourselves to meaninglessness
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (TV Tropes Game, with reference to Offscreen Moment of Awesome and Get It Over With), sculpture (number thirteen here), chiaroscuro, eraser (Murder AU), charcoal, parchment, thread
Word Count: 518
Rating: R
Characters: Rema
Warnings: Death. Lots of death. Violent death.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. It has been...yeesh, almost a decade since I wrote in this AU, haha. Essentially, this is an AU where Nida does go through with poisoning Sorell way back when. This piece gives a general overview of what goes down.
It was over.
She'd done well--brilliantly--played better than her sister had despite having been dealt a weaker hand, but Rema wasn't such a fool that she couldn't see when she was beaten.
And the gore surrounding her, blood and dead bodyguards and attendants and at least one fallen attacker, still wheezing out his final breaths, made that very clear.
Eighteen months. Eighteen months as her nephew's regent, and it all came to this. It all ended here.
She let the knife she held slip through her fingers. It landed on the bloody rug with a dull and final thunk.
"Do it," she said, calmly, meeting her would-be successor's eyes squarely. "Finish it."
A thin stream of blood from where she'd cut him trickled down his cheek. She imagined she could hear the drip-drip-drip as it landed on the carpet.
At least she'd marked him in her turn. She hadn't gone down without a fight.
He didn't move.
"Not so easy now, is it," she said, into the aching, vexing void, broken only by the wheezing of the half-dead man on the other side of the room. "When I know I'm beaten. When you can't rely on the adrenaline of it all anymore."
She took a step forward, another, another. The sticky carpet was abominable under her bare feet.
She wouldn't have to feel it much longer, at least.
She stopped, a breath away from him, ready to be run through or however he finally decided to do it.
"Well?" she asked. "What are you waiting for?"
She had lost the regency, she had lost her nephews, she had lost--who knew how much of what she'd started building, as subtly as she could stand, over her eighteen months in power.
But she still had her dignity. This man, and his brothers, and their faction, they may have taken her life and her power and her work, but they couldn't take that from her. Even in death.
She would not allow it.
"The princesses," he said. "Where are the princesses?"
Ahh. A small glimmer of satisfaction. Even if she had lost, at least his victory was incomplete.
She smiled. "Find them if you can."
His eyes narrowed, and his empty left hand shot out, grabbed her throat. Hard, strong. She could feel the bruises forming.
So this is how it's going to be, she thought.
"Where," he repeated, "are your nieces, Lady Rema?"
Her thoughts scattered, she could feel her pulse against his fingers, a tightness built inside her chest. Instinct took over, and her body sacrificed dignity to claw at his hands, fighting for air.
"Where are they?"
The pressure eased for a second; sparks danced across her vision; she choked out something that may have been a laugh.
"Find them," she wheezed, "if you can."
The hand tightened around her throat again; her vision blurred; her pulse pounded in her ears; her bloody hands clawed again at her throat.
And then came darkness, and the body of Lady Rema, Regent of Feredar, came to rest on the bloody floor, still and silent.
It was over.
Story: It Was Over
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Opal Jasper #10. wrack and ruin, Arclight #4. All too obsessed by weakness/ We have brought ourselves to meaninglessness
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (TV Tropes Game, with reference to Offscreen Moment of Awesome and Get It Over With), sculpture (number thirteen here), chiaroscuro, eraser (Murder AU), charcoal, parchment, thread
Word Count: 518
Rating: R
Characters: Rema
Warnings: Death. Lots of death. Violent death.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. It has been...yeesh, almost a decade since I wrote in this AU, haha. Essentially, this is an AU where Nida does go through with poisoning Sorell way back when. This piece gives a general overview of what goes down.
It was over.
She'd done well--brilliantly--played better than her sister had despite having been dealt a weaker hand, but Rema wasn't such a fool that she couldn't see when she was beaten.
And the gore surrounding her, blood and dead bodyguards and attendants and at least one fallen attacker, still wheezing out his final breaths, made that very clear.
Eighteen months. Eighteen months as her nephew's regent, and it all came to this. It all ended here.
She let the knife she held slip through her fingers. It landed on the bloody rug with a dull and final thunk.
"Do it," she said, calmly, meeting her would-be successor's eyes squarely. "Finish it."
A thin stream of blood from where she'd cut him trickled down his cheek. She imagined she could hear the drip-drip-drip as it landed on the carpet.
At least she'd marked him in her turn. She hadn't gone down without a fight.
He didn't move.
"Not so easy now, is it," she said, into the aching, vexing void, broken only by the wheezing of the half-dead man on the other side of the room. "When I know I'm beaten. When you can't rely on the adrenaline of it all anymore."
She took a step forward, another, another. The sticky carpet was abominable under her bare feet.
She wouldn't have to feel it much longer, at least.
She stopped, a breath away from him, ready to be run through or however he finally decided to do it.
"Well?" she asked. "What are you waiting for?"
She had lost the regency, she had lost her nephews, she had lost--who knew how much of what she'd started building, as subtly as she could stand, over her eighteen months in power.
But she still had her dignity. This man, and his brothers, and their faction, they may have taken her life and her power and her work, but they couldn't take that from her. Even in death.
She would not allow it.
"The princesses," he said. "Where are the princesses?"
Ahh. A small glimmer of satisfaction. Even if she had lost, at least his victory was incomplete.
She smiled. "Find them if you can."
His eyes narrowed, and his empty left hand shot out, grabbed her throat. Hard, strong. She could feel the bruises forming.
So this is how it's going to be, she thought.
"Where," he repeated, "are your nieces, Lady Rema?"
Her thoughts scattered, she could feel her pulse against his fingers, a tightness built inside her chest. Instinct took over, and her body sacrificed dignity to claw at his hands, fighting for air.
"Where are they?"
The pressure eased for a second; sparks danced across her vision; she choked out something that may have been a laugh.
"Find them," she wheezed, "if you can."
The hand tightened around her throat again; her vision blurred; her pulse pounded in her ears; her bloody hands clawed again at her throat.
And then came darkness, and the body of Lady Rema, Regent of Feredar, came to rest on the bloody floor, still and silent.
It was over.