Dragon Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonjournal) wrote2013-09-30 03:17 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2013-09-30 03:17 pm
Entry tags:
Original Works, Bingo edition #3
Title: The Trial
Rating: PG
Word Count: 850
Summary: A prisoner is tried for treason against the crown.
Warning: None
Prompt: Innocent
Beta: None
Notes: Kiera verse
The room quieted. The sound of breathing wrapped around everyone, echoing loud in ears tuned toward the front. A cough echoed loud and startled more than one.
Waiting for the sharp sound that would bring them all to attention ratcheted the tension. The soft creak of chairs and benches remained loud and terrifying. No one spoke, waiting for the beginning of the end for everyone.
A door opened and heads turned as one, bodies slumping backward when they realized it was the wrong portal. Somewhere, the soft clink of metal brought attention, but no one said anything. The waiting grew interminable. They’d come here for a purpose. To have that purpose delayed just magnified the tension permeating the room.
A throat cleared and necks craned, hoping that something was finally happening. A man wearing the green and gold of Royalty tapped his staff on the ground, breaking the silence of the chamber. As one, the people gathered stood and then either went to a knee, or curtsied low.
Three people walked into the room. One’s face was obscured by a red veil of mourning. His jacket held a white ribbon of wanted justice. No one looked up as he settled into his seat. The other two sat behind him, their faces lowered and heavily painted as was the current fashion. Red and white stripes obscured the planes of their faces and the natural colors.
When the staff pounded into the wooden floor again, the entire room settled back into their seats. The waiting began again, but with the arrival of the Royals meant the wait almost over. The magisters wouldn’t keep the Royals waiting for too long.
A rush of air into the room stirred the populace. A rhythmic clinking reverberated down the hallway, growing louder and louder as necks craned to catch a glimpse of the accused. A murmur rippled through the gathered throng when she stepped inside.
Brilliant golden hair hung from her head, tangling around her shoulders. Her clothing was clean; a contrast from how she’d appeared before this. People spoke amongst themselves. The low rumble rose over the clank of the chains.
The prisoner stumbled stepping up into the box, but the guards didn’t let her completely debase herself. When she straightened, her hair fell back, revealing dark eyes surrounded by dark circles. Sunken cheeks spoke of weeks without food, or without enough.
The watching people spoke of all they saw. She had been in the pit of cells for months, waiting for justice to be meted out. Her supporters murmured words they thought comforting. No acknowledgement came from the prisoner. She remained standing still, head held high, watching past the Royals that stared at her malevolently.
Soon came the tap, tap, tap of the staff. The magisters walked in, their heads down, their hands hidden in their sleeves. The noise trailed off, and the tension returned, waiting on the verdict they’d all arrived here to hear.
A few moments passed and restlessness grew without the calming influence of the magister’s voice. A door opened behind the gallery and most turned to look at the flushed young man that fell into the room. He carried a letter in his cold-chapped fingers and dashed down the stairs.
The guard at the bottom stopped him, but he whispered something and was allowed through. He approached the magister and slid the letter across the warm, open expanse of the desk. He vibrated in place, waiting as the magister read the letter.
Everyone strained forward, trying to judge what was so important in the letter. The magister flicked his fingers, sending the boy back up the stairs to the back of the courtroom. A throat was cleared again, and attention snapped to the magister in the front of the room. No one breathed, waiting for him to speak.
“I have received confirmation of the testimony given. There is proof, and a confession, of the woman who perpetrated the horrid crime we have come here to adjudicate.” The magister’s strong voice echoed in the chamber, unbroken by any other sound. He looked around, not looking at the pale woman now trembling in the box.
He glanced at the Royals who sat staring straight at the woman. His fingers folded the letter, and he settled it onto the desk.
“Kiera Marnoff, you are hereby found innocent of the crime of treason, and desecration of the Royal Harem. You are to be released forthwith from the dungeons and allowed to resume your life.” He sighed and shook his head. “The apologies of the court and my personal good wishes follow you.”
The courtroom held its breath. The Royals got to their feet and walked away. Everyone bowed, and even Kiera settled into a deep curtsey as they passed.
The guards arrived to take Kiera away, gently handing her down from the box and helping her walk out of the room.
Spectators stood and filed out. Some smiled in triumph; others hissed amongst themselves, too shocked to speak loudly.
Soon, the room stood empty, abandoned and awaiting for the next time.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 850
Summary: A prisoner is tried for treason against the crown.
Warning: None
Prompt: Innocent
Beta: None
Notes: Kiera verse
The room quieted. The sound of breathing wrapped around everyone, echoing loud in ears tuned toward the front. A cough echoed loud and startled more than one.
Waiting for the sharp sound that would bring them all to attention ratcheted the tension. The soft creak of chairs and benches remained loud and terrifying. No one spoke, waiting for the beginning of the end for everyone.
A door opened and heads turned as one, bodies slumping backward when they realized it was the wrong portal. Somewhere, the soft clink of metal brought attention, but no one said anything. The waiting grew interminable. They’d come here for a purpose. To have that purpose delayed just magnified the tension permeating the room.
A throat cleared and necks craned, hoping that something was finally happening. A man wearing the green and gold of Royalty tapped his staff on the ground, breaking the silence of the chamber. As one, the people gathered stood and then either went to a knee, or curtsied low.
Three people walked into the room. One’s face was obscured by a red veil of mourning. His jacket held a white ribbon of wanted justice. No one looked up as he settled into his seat. The other two sat behind him, their faces lowered and heavily painted as was the current fashion. Red and white stripes obscured the planes of their faces and the natural colors.
When the staff pounded into the wooden floor again, the entire room settled back into their seats. The waiting began again, but with the arrival of the Royals meant the wait almost over. The magisters wouldn’t keep the Royals waiting for too long.
A rush of air into the room stirred the populace. A rhythmic clinking reverberated down the hallway, growing louder and louder as necks craned to catch a glimpse of the accused. A murmur rippled through the gathered throng when she stepped inside.
Brilliant golden hair hung from her head, tangling around her shoulders. Her clothing was clean; a contrast from how she’d appeared before this. People spoke amongst themselves. The low rumble rose over the clank of the chains.
The prisoner stumbled stepping up into the box, but the guards didn’t let her completely debase herself. When she straightened, her hair fell back, revealing dark eyes surrounded by dark circles. Sunken cheeks spoke of weeks without food, or without enough.
The watching people spoke of all they saw. She had been in the pit of cells for months, waiting for justice to be meted out. Her supporters murmured words they thought comforting. No acknowledgement came from the prisoner. She remained standing still, head held high, watching past the Royals that stared at her malevolently.
Soon came the tap, tap, tap of the staff. The magisters walked in, their heads down, their hands hidden in their sleeves. The noise trailed off, and the tension returned, waiting on the verdict they’d all arrived here to hear.
A few moments passed and restlessness grew without the calming influence of the magister’s voice. A door opened behind the gallery and most turned to look at the flushed young man that fell into the room. He carried a letter in his cold-chapped fingers and dashed down the stairs.
The guard at the bottom stopped him, but he whispered something and was allowed through. He approached the magister and slid the letter across the warm, open expanse of the desk. He vibrated in place, waiting as the magister read the letter.
Everyone strained forward, trying to judge what was so important in the letter. The magister flicked his fingers, sending the boy back up the stairs to the back of the courtroom. A throat was cleared again, and attention snapped to the magister in the front of the room. No one breathed, waiting for him to speak.
“I have received confirmation of the testimony given. There is proof, and a confession, of the woman who perpetrated the horrid crime we have come here to adjudicate.” The magister’s strong voice echoed in the chamber, unbroken by any other sound. He looked around, not looking at the pale woman now trembling in the box.
He glanced at the Royals who sat staring straight at the woman. His fingers folded the letter, and he settled it onto the desk.
“Kiera Marnoff, you are hereby found innocent of the crime of treason, and desecration of the Royal Harem. You are to be released forthwith from the dungeons and allowed to resume your life.” He sighed and shook his head. “The apologies of the court and my personal good wishes follow you.”
The courtroom held its breath. The Royals got to their feet and walked away. Everyone bowed, and even Kiera settled into a deep curtsey as they passed.
The guards arrived to take Kiera away, gently handing her down from the box and helping her walk out of the room.
Spectators stood and filed out. Some smiled in triumph; others hissed amongst themselves, too shocked to speak loudly.
Soon, the room stood empty, abandoned and awaiting for the next time.
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