feather-blue

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

<< < VIII. > >>

"There you are," Jannik breathed as he lifted the jeweled longsword into the air. The metal of it gleamed. On its hilt, the corundum glittered like a promise.

"Do you have any idea," Jannik asked, breaking the stunned silence as easily as he had broken the lute, "just how much trouble you gave us with this little stunt?"

Every eye in the room was fixed to the blade, now. Every eye except those damned blue ones, set above the faintest of all possible smiles.

If Jannik saw the Feather's changed expression, he gave no hint of it. He swung the sword through empty air, listening to the hiss and swish of it.

"They still think that the necklace you stole had no more than sentimental value," he said ruefully. With uncommon reverence, the prince ran his fingers over the stones set into the pommel: one red, one blue. "You just had to grab both of our crown jewels, didn't you? After we put so much work into convincing the public that the sword of Saint Anselm was nothing but a myth. But of course -"

Here he brought the sword down, the tip hitting the floor just a hair's breadth away from Feather Blue's white knuckles.

"- of course the clever little bird figured out how to put it back together again."

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

<< < VII. > >>

The fading light reflected dully off the scuffed wood as Jannik turned the instrument over in his hands.

"Mighty fine for a twopenny bard such as you," he mused, running his finger along the curved body.

Behind him, the guards exchanged amused glances. The lute looked like it had seen better days. Thin scratches ran down its back, and some of the pegs had been reinforced with twine. Only those who'd been fortunate enough to catch the tail end of the Feather's recital earlier knew not to be fooled by appearances.

Jannik, of course, would not have cared either way. He grasped the lute by it's neck, and with a casual flick of his wrist, he smashed it on the floorboards.

That, finally, made Feather Blue flinch.

Whatever sound she might have made was tuned out by the twang of broken strings and the splinter of wood. Her fingers flexed once in the plush of the carpet; her jaw twitched. That was all.

By the time Jannik looked back at her, she was composed again.

She did not look up.

Why would she have? Blue already knew the glint in Jannik’s eyes when he found something he’d been hunting for. She knew what strings looked like when they snapped, and the way that wood could splinter like a hollow, gaping ribcage.

Feather Blue didn't watch as the crown prince of Anselm reached into the carcass of her lute. She didn't watch as he drew out the impossible length of steel she'd hidden inside.

If she had -

Maybe she would have seen how, when his fingers closed around the hilt of the sword, his face momentarily softened into relief.

[feather-blue]

Part IV

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

<< < VI. > >>

Guard after guard filed out of the room while Jannik paced and Suzeanne sat as still as a statue.

Even now, with only four pairs of eyes pointed at her, Feather Blue did not move an inch. It was as if she'd decided that she was no longer truly there: just part of the furniture, perhaps. Just a mouse, frozen under a predator's gaze, and Suzeanne the falcon in the dive. When the soldiers returned, it was only Jannik who greeted them. "Nothing but some clothes and her instrument, sir" they reported. Jannik just impatiently reached for the bundle.

"Heavens, Blue," he scoffed as he tossed the clothes aside one by one. "I didn't know this many shades of nothing existed."

Suzeanne cocked her head to the side, eyes never leaving her prey. "Our Feather really has come down in the world," she mused. "And she was such a pretty bird. Don't you agree, beloved?"

Not even the endearment held any trace of warmth. Still, Jannik straightened. "All plucked and pruned," he agreed, lips quirking up. "Shall I help her out, then?"

When Suzeanne inclined her head, he slipped out of his coat. "Call it charity, my sweet," the prince purred. "It's not quite your color, but it'll have to do."

Even as he draped the jacket over her shoulders, Feather Blue did not move. The indigo silk settled around her, and then it, too, was still. Left in shirtsleeves and his waistcoat, Jannik rolled his eyes. "Ungrateful as ever," he tutted. "Ah, well."

He finally, finally took a seat, perching on the armrest aside his intended.

"Now," he said. "Hand me that lute."

[feather-blue]

Today, I offer you this playlist. There is also an extended version with more songs that I just went "fuck it, vibes" about, but this one is FINE TUNED. This one is sorted. This one has a narrative arc. You might argue that this one contains spoilers.

It also contains excessive references to birds, feathers, and the colors red and blue. Just how I like it.

[feather-blue]

Part III

[feather-blue]

Part II

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

<< < V. > >>

In the hastily renamed royal suite, Suzeanne of Maregol had changed into a dressing gown and draped herself across a chaise longue. Three attendants were busy with her hair alone, running gold and silver combs through it until the metal dulled in comparison.

She had just gestured for another to hand her a drink when her betrothed walked in, leading a revolutionary at gunpoint.

"Look what I found lurking in the back room," Jannik sing-songed. He gave the Feather a sharp shove between her shoulder blades, sending her stumbling forwards.

She did not catch herself.

On the tavern’s best carpet, before the Lady Suzeanne, Feather Blue fell gracelessly to her knees.

--

Suzeanne merely raised a single, perfect eyebrow and took a sip of her drink. "You’re late," she said.

Jannik shrugged and pocketed his pistol. He had no need for it, now. Eight guards had straightened at their entrance. Eight rifles were pointed directly at the kneeling girl.

Feather Blue had once been known for her eponymous eyes and coat. She’d dressed in elegant waistcoats and flaring pantaloons, all scarlet and green and blue, blue, blue. Now, her clothes were plain linens: Her dress was brown. Her hood was white. The only spot of color left were those eyes, cast down as if they, too, wanted to fade.

Lady Suzeanne looked her over. It was clear that she did not like what she saw.

"Gentleman Thief Feather Blue," she tutted. "What a… surprise."

Blue set her jaw and fixed her gaze to the floor. A long time ago - had it only been a few weeks? - she’d worn her hair braided and pinned, with bright feathers woven into the ends. Now it fell awkwardly into her face, too short even to fully tie it back.

Suzeanne's lips twisted in distaste. "I thought it would be at least a little more difficult to catch you. After all that fuss in Alida… You're meant to be slaving away in a prison camp, you know."

That last line was said almost conversationally, as if they were catching up over tea or imported coffee. How have you been, Blue? Oh, the mines, you know. How about you?

Feather Blue did not reply.

At a pointed look from his betrothed, Jannik reached out. His hands were almost gentle as he curled his fingers into their prisoner's hair. Then he pulled, sharply, forcing her to face the princess.

"What was that?" Suzeanne asked. There was an edge to her voice now. It was sharper than anything she’d ever allowed on her features.

Feather Blue neither flinched nor blinked.

"I did not enjoy the prospect, my Lady.”

Her Lady's lips thinned. The hand in Feather Blue's hair tightened minutely.

With a flick of her fingers, Suzeanne sent her attendants scattering away. When she leaned forwards, that hair trailed from the pillows to her shoulders like a perfect spill of moonlight.

"You'll like this prospect even less," she said bluntly. "You've run out of choices. You’re bound for the gallows, my dear."

Feather Blue held perfectly still. When she spoke, her words were quiet, and thoughtful, and deliberate.

"If that is what you want, my Lady."

[feather-blue]

Part I

Since I started posting this to Instagram too, and am putting some effort into these graphics, I've decided to share them here as well <3

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

<< < IV. > >>

The bard no longer known as Feather Blue had spent a busy evening entertaining guests in a small tavern when the royal couple walked in and demanded a room.

Blue knew better than to interrupt her set. She kept playing as they spoke to the inkeeper, guests turning in their seats to glimpse a look of them. She kept playing as they were escorted to a private room. She kept playing as the off-shift guards took seats throughout the room, only making sure her bright blue eyes stayed hidden in the shadows.

She played two encores. She bowed as enthusiastically as ever, smiling at guests even as her heart was beating in her throat. Then, she walked to her room, threw her lute into its case, and grabbed her bag. If she climbed out the window, it would be hours before anyone realized she was missing. She could be gone before the sun fully went down and by the time it rose she would be as gone as any bird flying its coop.

Behind her, someone chuckled.

Feather Blue froze. She did not turn around.

"I believe you have the wrong room, sir," she said. Her voice was smooth. Her hands did not shake. She was rather proud of that.

"No,” the man behind her said. “I don't think I do."

The window was right in front of her. If she grabbed her lute, and jumped -

Feather Blue sniffed. "If you're hoping for some private entertainment, you'll have to go to Madam Marie's like everyone else. The musicians here are not for sale."

The man laughed. He was leaning against the door, casual as anything, as if he’d only stumbled in on a whim. "Believe it or not, that's not what I want."

Of course it wasn’t. Of course.

The question burst out of her like a splash of crimson in a sea of cyan.

"Why are you here, then?"

With a cruel twist to his lips the Crown Prince of Anselm stepped forward. "To demand your hand in marriage, of course" Jannik sang; and then he cocked his gun and added, "or else your immediate and complete surrender, Feather Blue."

--

Silhouetted against the still-closed window, Feather Blue folded like a house of cards.

"If that’s what you want, your Highness."

Jannik set his jaw. He raised the gun a little higher.

"I do," he said.

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

<< < III. > >>

The Kingdoms of Anselm and Maregol had had an uneasy relationship for generations. Anselm coveted the harbors of Maregol. Maregol envied Anselm's mines. For years the threat of war had hung in the air - until Prince Jannik of Anselm and Lady Suzeanne of Maregol announced their engagement.

The celebrations in the capital of Anselm were a feast for the ages. For three days the city was dowsed in flowers and wine. Thousands of people lined the roads when the coach departed. Their cheers followed them for miles as they headed towards Maregol, and their upcoming nuptials.

--

When the final revelers disappeared behind the horizon, Jannik closed the curtains, dropped his smile, and leaned back to study his intended.

Lady Suzeanne of Maregol was known across all the Seven Kingdoms as an inimitable Beauty. Her hair shone brighter than polished electrum, spilling all the way down to her waist. Her eyes were of a cool even gray like the waters of her hometown, and her dresses and suits were always at the height of fashion. The only way she could have been more beautiful, everyone agreed, was if she ever smiled.

One might expect that a man fortunate enough to wed her would consider himself a happy man.

"Three days," Jannik hissed. "Three days we wasted on this charade."

This did nothing to rattle Lady Suzeanne's cool demeanor.

"If you had wanted to elope you would have had to say so earlier," she said. "and accepted the thousands of casualties it would have caused. I offered; you refused."

"Three days," Jannik insisted.

"Unless you have something new to tell me, your Highness, I suggest you remain silent."

It was a tense and quiet ride in that coach, and in the one they switched into a few miles outside of town. Even with their honor guard, the open roads were dangerous: Not everyone approved of the kingdoms' unification, after all. If they wanted to make it safely to the sea, they needed to rely on subterfuge.

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

< II. >

Feather Blue went into hiding.

She cut her hair and burned her coat; cast off anything that might have tied her to her life in the capital. Gone was the rakish garb she had become known for. Gone were the bright colors she had always favored. In her simple peasant's dress she might as well have been a different person.

Her gait was thoughtful and deliberate; when she laughed, she laughed quietly. If she ever stepped into the sun, she used a hood to shade her distinctive eyes.

She was a bird who had clipped her own feathers. This, she was willing to accept. Feather Blue needed to disappear, even if it meant she'd never fly again.

--

She would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for the Wedding.

[feather-blue]

The Execution of Feather Blue

I. >

When infamous thief and revolutionary Feather Blue was arrested in Alida, she should have been given the choice between a life sentence in the mines of Manou, or else the end of her life entirely.

The histories might never know what fate the Feather would have chosen. Her arrest had been made in a small town in the mountains of Anselm, but even there her name was well-known. They knew she'd incited the five-hour riots in the capital. They knew she'd once stolen the king's crown, the queen's necklace, and the prince's favorite toy, all in one afternoon.

Most importantly, they knew this:

Feather Blue was hard to kill.

After very little deliberation, the mayor decided that he could not have their gallows tied up indefinitely. The mines always needed workers, after all, and they paid handsomely for them. You never could rely on the Crown doing the same.

Feather Blue was tied and bound and escorted into a prisoner transport. Five guards were set to watch her, each equipped with both rifles and swords.

It took her all of fifteen minutes to escape.