Welcome back, this is part 2 of Beneath the drowning Veil!
If you would like to check out the first part click right here! But if this is your first time seeing this I HIGHLY recommend reading the first part before this one! THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE <33333
DO NOT WORRY YOU MEET LEON IN THIS ONE
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Your legs trembled beneath you, each step felt weighed down, The earth clung to you as though it meant to keep you, mud drying in uneven patches along your feet, streaking up your calves where thin lines of blood still traced their quiet descent. You could feel it tightening on your skin, cracking faintly with every movement.
They were impossibly large.. far larger than anything you had ever seen outside of a screen. Towering slabs of dark iron and aged brick, etched with symbols you couldnât understand, yet somehow felt were watching you too. They stood open, but not welcoming. More like a mouth.. waiting.
You hesitated only a moment before stepping through. Perhaps it was your desperation to be back in civilization, Inside, the world shifted.
Stone replaced dirt beneath your feet. uneven, foreign, cold. The air smelled different too, a blend of smoke and livestock, metal with something faintly sweet you couldnât place. The walls of the city rose high on either side, proud and immovable, casting long shadows that swallowed you almost immediately.
And then came the people.
First, it was only a few glances. Passing looks. But they lingered too long. Faces turned. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. The weight of their attention pressed into your skin sharper than the cold or any branch.
You became aware.. painfully aware of yourself.
Of the fur cloak draped haphazardly around your shoulders, stiff with dried blood, Of how it barely covered you, slipping each time you moved, threatening to expose more than it concealed. Of how your hands kept darting to clutch it tighter, only to lose your grip again moments later.
You werenât dressed. Not at all. And they noticed.
A woman standing beside a stall pulled her child closer, turning them away from you as though shielding them from something indecent. A pair of men paused mid-conversation, their expressions shifting from confusion to poorly concealed disgust. Others stared openly. some with pity, some with curiosity, and some with something colder.
You lowered your gaze, focusing on the ground as if it might swallow you whole, You tried to move like you belonged. You did not, And that was so painfully obvious.
The road stretched ahead, lined with merchants calling out their wares, though their voices wavered as you passed. Colorful fabrics hung from wooden frames, swaying gently in the breeze. Crates of fruits you didnât recognize sat piled high, their scents rich and unfamiliar. Metal clinked somewhere nearby, rhythmic and deliberate, like a heartbeat you couldnât sync with.
Too loud. Too vivid. Too real.
Your foot caught on the uneven stone, and for a brief, mortifying moment, the cloak slipped further, nearly abandoning you entirely. You caught it just in time, clutching it desperately to your chest as a ripple of quiet murmurs followed.
Heat rushed to your face, though the air remained cold. You didnât understand this place. Not the way people dressed, not the way they looked at you, not even how to walk without drawing attention. Just hours ago.. hours you had been somewhere else. Somewhere that made sense.
Now, even your own body felt misplaced.
You tried to move faster, weaving awkwardly between horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians who seemed to glide effortlessly around you. A horse snorted as you passed too close, and you flinched, nearly losing your balance again. Laughter.. quiet, but unmistakable brushed against your ears.
You werenât meant to be here.
The thought settled heavily in your chest just as-
A hand landing on your shoulder. Firm. Grounding. Encased in cold metal. You froze.
âExcuse me, young lady⌠are you alright?âThe voice was steady, measured, gentler than you expected. You turned slowly, your movements stiff, uncertain⌠and then you saw him.
Armor. Real armor. Not costume, not imitation, intricate plates layered over chainmail that caught the light with every slight movement. It covered him almost entirely, polished yet worn, as though it had seen more than its fair share of battle. A knight.
For a moment, something inside you broke looseânot laughter, not anger, disbelief, shock at how this could have possibly happened. Your lips parted, a breath catching halfway between a sob and a sound that didnât belong in your chest.
It only solidified that this was real..
Your sobs came out uneven, shaking, fragile and then the rest followed. A quiet, helpless sound that trembled into something closer to a sob. You tried to swallow it down, tried to force it back into your chest where it belonged, but it only made your shoulders hitch, your grip on the blood-stiffened fur tightening as though it were the only thing keeping you from unraveling entirely.
The knight noticed. Of course he did. His hand withdrew from your shoulder almost immediately, not abruptly, but with a certain caution, as though he had touched something unpredictable. The subtle shift of metal followed, a faint scrape as his gauntleted hand lowered toward the hilt of his sword. ready.
You saw it. You understood it, even if you didnât understand anything else. Fear. Not for you, but of you.
âMadam⌠please calm yourself.â
His voice was controlled, measured carefully, like one might speak to a frightened creature, or something worse.
You shook your head before you even realized you were doing it. Not in defiance, not in refusal⌠but because there was no other answer to give. How could you calm down when none of this made sense? When the ground beneath your feet, the air in your lungs, the very shape of the world had been ripped away and replaced with something cold and incomprehensible?
Just hours ago.. The thought collapsed in on itself. Useless. Your life had been difficult before. Messy, exhausting, unfair in ways that had once felt overwhelming.
But this? This was something else entirely.
âMadam,â he tried again, a touch firmer now, though not unkind. âYou are unknown.â
The word settled heavily in your chest. âIâm going to have to bring you to council..â There was no accusation in it. only procedure. Duty.
His hand rose once more, slower this time, hovering uncertainly before coming to rest lightly against the middle of your back. Not forceful, not rough⌠but guiding. Leaving no room for refusal.
And what choice did you have? You nodded faintly, more a collapse of resistance than agreement and allowed yourself to be turned.
The city did not grow kinder as you walked.
If anything, the attention sharpened.
With the knight at your side, people no longer pretended not to stare. Their curiosity deepened, emboldened now by the presence of authority. Whispers followed in your wake, low and indistinct but constant enough to feel like they clung to your skin.
You became acutely aware of every inch of yourself. Of how the cloak slipped again as you took your first step, forcing you to fumble with it awkwardly, your fingers clumsy and slow. The fur scratched against your skin, stiff in some places, damp in others. You didnât know where to hold it, how to wrap it, how to exist in it without feeling exposed.
Because you were exposed. Bare legs streaked with dirt and drying blood. Shoulders half-covered at best. Each movement threatened to reveal more, and you found yourself hunching instinctively, curling inward as though you could make yourself smaller⌠less visible.
You stumbled again, catching your foot against the uneven stone. A sharp intake of breath escaped you as you lurched forward, barely managing to keep your balance. The knightâs hand steadied you, firm this time but even that small contact seemed to draw more eyes.
Heat crept up your neck despite the chill in the air.
The streets widened as you moved deeper into the city. Market stalls gave way to larger buildings, stone structures with carved facades and tall windows that gleamed faintly in the light. Banners hung between them, their colors rich and deliberate, though their meanings were lost on you. The crowd shifted too, fewer merchants, more finely dressed individuals who watched you with quieter, colder interest.
You didnât belong here. Not in the markets. Not on the roads. Not anywhere.
Your steps faltered as a carriage rolled past, its wheels loud against the stone. You flinched instinctively, shrinking closer to the knight without thinking. He noticed, but said nothing. only adjusted his pace slightly, slower now, as though accounting for your hesitation.
The silence between you stretched.
You wanted to ask questions. So many questions. Where you were. What this place was. Why this was happening.
But the words refused to form. Or perhaps you were afraid of the answers.
It dwarfed everything around it.. its walls impossibly high, its structure layered with towers and spires that seemed to pierce the sky itself. The gates stood open just as the cityâs had, but these felt different. Final. Your steps slowed without your permission. This was real. Painfully, undeniably real. The knightâs hand pressed slightly more firmly against your back in cold warning.
You swallowed, your fingers tightening once more around the fur cloak as it threatened to slip again. Clumsy, unfamiliar, exposed. you adjusted it poorly, unevenly, knowing it did little to preserve your dignity but trying anyway.
Because it was all you had.
And so, with uneven steps and a heart that refused to steady, you crossed the threshold beside him, into something you still could not understand, and could no longer escape.
The palace swallowed you whole.
What had seemed immense from the outside unfolded into something almost impossible within, ceilings that stretched higher than your eyes could comfortably follow, pillars carved with such precision they hardly looked like stone at all, and floors so polished they caught faint, wavering reflections of your every uncertain step.
Your bare feet hesitated against it. The surface was smooth, so unlike the uneven streets outside that you found yourself walking more carefully, each step tentative, as though you might slip and fall at any moment. The fur cloak shifted again with the movement, heavy and damp in places. You tried to gather it closer, but your hands felt clumsy, unsure of how to hold something that was never meant to be worn like this.
Servants moved quietly along the edges of the hall, their gazes lowered in practiced discipline⌠but not low enough to miss you entirely. You caught the flickers, brief, startled glances, quickly hidden. You could almost feel the questions forming in their minds, even if none dared to voice them.
A girl. barefoot, blood-stained, barely covered.
Escorted by a knight. You shrank inward again, shoulders curling, your grip tightening uselessly at the cloak that refused to grant you dignity. The walls were lined with portraits.
Painted, not photographedâbut so detailed they felt almost alive. A family, repeated across the years in varying compositions. A man and woman seated in quiet authority, children arranged beside them. Their expressions were composed, almost serene⌠though something about their smiles felt distant. Polished. They were all fair-haired. All of them.
You stared a moment too long, your thoughts driftingâtrying, perhaps, to anchor yourself in something familiar, even if it wasnât. You barely noticed when the knight slowed. Only when he stopped entirely did you realize you had nearly walked into him.
You startled, stumbling back a half-step, the cloak slipping once more as you fumbled to catch it. Heat rushed through you again as you clutched it desperately, glancing around as though the walls themselves might be watching. âSteady,â he murmured, quieter now. You nodded quickly, unable to meet his gaze. Ahead, the throne room opened.
A wide expanse of polished stone stretched before you, leading to a raised platform framed by twin staircases that curved upward along either side, meeting a second level that overlooked the hall. And at its centerâ
The throne. It was not overly large, yet it commanded the space effortlessly. Dark wood, intricately carved with patterns you couldnât begin to understand, each detail deliberate, almost mesmerizing. The cushion looked impossibly softâplush in a way that felt entirely out of place in a world that had so far been nothing but harsh. You stared at it.
âHis Majesty will take a moment,â the knight said, stepping slightly ahead of you now. His posture had returnedâstraight, composed, hands clasped behind his back. âHe is in council.â
You opened your mouth to respond, though you werenât entirely sure what you meant to say. Before any words could form, a door slammed somewhere beyond your sight, the sharp crack echoing through the vast chamber. You flinched, your head snapping toward the sound, your pulse quickening.
âI am told there is an outsider,â a voice rang out, low and cold, smooth.. carrying easily across the distance. âTell me you found them. I have no need for spies from neighboring kingdoms.â
He emerged from above, descending the stairs with an ease that made the space seem to bend around him. His presence was immediate, commanding. Layers of dark, finely worked fabric formed his attire, armor woven seamlessly into cloth, a deep blue cape trailing behind him. Upon his head rested a crown set with stones so large and brilliant they seemed almost unreal. He approached the throne, his hand brushing its arm before he stopped.
His piercing gaze fell on you.
For a moment, there was only silence. You felt it like a weight, the intensity of his attention pressing into you, stripping away any illusion that you might go unnoticed. You straightened instinctively, though it only made you more aware of your state.
He did not ask your name.
âWhy,â he said at last, his tone sharp with disbelief, âhave you brought this woman to me naked.â
Heat rushed to your face, sudden and overwhelming. Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to pull the fur tighter or to simply disappear altogether. The knight beside you faltered, his composure unraveling almost instantly.
âYour Majesty, I⌠I did not classify her as naked, because of the fur she wears.â
The kingâs expression did not change. âIf you have eyes, you would see that sheâs obviously naked,â he replied coolly. âGo. Remove her from my sight. We will continue this when she has been properly attended to.â
He seated himself with effortless grace, as though the matter were already beneath his concern.
The knight exhaled quietly, tension slipping from him as he turned. Waiting for just a second. âThis way, Madam,â he said, though his earlier confidence had diminished.
You followed, though not without one last glance over your shoulder. The king was still watching you. Not idly, not with passing curiosity, but with a focus that made your skin prickle. It was not until the doors closed behind you that the feeling eased.
The corridors beyond were no less grand, though quieter, more enclosed. You passed through stretches of polished stone and carved wood, through narrow hallways and open archways. Servants moved about their duties, each one pausing, if only for a fraction of a second, to look at you. You tried to keep your gaze lowered, but your unfamiliar footing betrayed you more than once. The floors here were smoother, almost too smooth, and you slipped slightly, catching yourself against the wall with an awkward motion that made your heart lurch.
Everything felt wrong. Too large, too clean, too ordered. Nothing like where you had come from. At last, the knight guided you into a chamber filled with baths carved from wood, each one brimming with steaming water. The air was thick with warmth, a gentle haze rising from the surface of the baths, carrying with it a faint, calming scent.
âPlease, use one of these,â the knight said, his tone carefully neutral. âA maid will bring your clothing.â
He bowed slightly and departed, leaving you alone.
For a moment, you simply stood there, uncertain. Then, slowly, you reached up and pulled the fur from your shoulders. It resisted in places, sticking where blood had dried, and you had to tug harder than you wanted, wincing as it came free. You let it fall, trying not to think about it as you stepped into the water. The heat enveloped you instantly, sinking into your skin, loosening the tension you hadnât realized you were holding. You exhaled, the sound soft, almost fragile. For the first time since you had arrived, something felt familiar, a bath.
The thought came suddenly, sharp and insistent. A bath had brought you here. That much you were sure of. The memory was hazy, but the sensation of water, of sinking beneath it, lingered.
Maybe it could take you back.
The idea took hold before you could question it. You slid deeper into the bath, until the water reached your shoulders, your chin. Then, with a quiet breath, you let yourself sink beneath the surface.
The world became muffled, distant. Light rippled above you, distorted and wavering. You kept your eyes open, staring upward, willing something to change, to shift, to pull you away from this place. Your lungs began to burn, the pressure building steadily, but you held on, stubborn and desperate. You squeezed your eyes shut, as though that might make the difference. It didnât.
Hands seized your shoulders, dragging you upward with startling force. You broke the surface with a gasp, air rushing into your lungs as the world snapped back into clarity.
âAre you mad?â a voice demanded, sharp and alarmed. âYou could have drowned. What were you thinking!?â You blinked, disoriented, water streaming down your face as you looked around. The same chamber. The same baths. And you almost scoffed. You said nothing.
There was silence between the two of you for a long moment, Before she let out a deep breath. âDo you not speak either..?â She asked, though her voice was much calmer her hands on your shoulders eased slightly. And she looked off the the side as you did not reply.
But the womanâs hands were already moving again, efficient and practiced as she reached for a sponge and worked a bar of soap against it until it frothed. âYou are still filthy,â she remarked, not unkindly, though there was a firmness to her tone that allowed no argument. âWhere have you come from that you do not even know how to wash yourself.â
The sponge met your back, and she began to scrub with steady, purposeful strokes. You flinched at first, your body still sensitive, but you did not protest. The warmth of the water and the rhythm of her movements dulled something inside you, leaving behind a quiet emptiness that settled deep in your chest. You were tired in a way that sleep would not fix. Tired of not understanding, tired of being here, tired of the dull ache of missing something you could not reach.
Homesick, though you were no longer sure where home even was.
She lifted your arm without warning, turning it slightly as she scrubbed along your skin with a kind of urgency that made it clear she had not forgotten what she had pulled you from moments ago. There was a careful watchfulness in her movements, as though she feared that if she slowed, if she gave you even a moment too long beneath the water, you might slip away again.
âDespite the blood and all this filth,â she continued, her voice softening just a fraction, âyou are quite fair. It would be a waste for you to die this way.â
The words settled over you more heavily than the water itself. You stilled, caught off guard by their gentleness. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to you like that, without impatience or irritation laced beneath their tone. A memory surfaced unbidden of your manager at the cafĂŠ, of sharp words and constant criticism, of standing small and silent while no one ever stepped in to soften the blow.
âThank you,â you murmured, the response slipping out before you could stop it.
Her hands paused for the briefest moment, the scrubbing easing just slightly.
âWhat is your name?â she asked.
You gave it without much hesitation, the answer coming easily, almost instinctively. There was a strange pull in her presence, something that made you want to listen, to answer, to stay. For a fleeting moment, the question of how you got here pressed at the back of your mind, whether you should ask her, whether you should say it aloud, but the thought of how it would sound stopped you. You already felt unsteady enough in this place. You did not need to appear unwell.
âAll right,â she said after a moment, setting the sponge aside. âThat will do. You are clean now. Up you come.â
She helped you from the bath, her grip firm and steady as your feet met the wooden floor. The sudden exposure made your shoulders draw inward, your arms instinctively crossing over yourself, but before the discomfort could settle, a thick wool towel was wrapped securely around you.
âDry yourself,â she instructed, already turning away. âThe King is still waiting.â
The words sent a small jolt through you.
As she left the chamber, the quiet returned, though it no longer felt as heavy as before. You dried yourself slowly, your movements uncertain, still unused to everything around you. Even something as simple as this felt unfamiliar now, as though you had to relearn it in this strange, distant world.
The clothing left for you rested neatly nearby. You hesitated before reaching for it, your fingers brushing over the fabric. It was finer than anything you were used to, well made and carefully arranged. You dressed slowly, awkwardly at first, fumbling with the ties of the dark blue top before managing to secure them. The white underdress fell softly beneath it, and though the fit was close, it was not uncomfortable. The shoes, simple black with a strap across the top, felt strange compared to what you had worn before, but they held your feet securely.
You adjusted your hair as best you could, though you were certain it still looked uneven, and took a quiet breath before stepping out of the bathing chamber.
The difference was immediate.
Where before there had been glances that lingered too long, now there were only polite acknowledgments. Servants passed you with small nods, their attention no longer drawn to you in the same way. The relief was subtle but real, easing some of the tension you had carried since entering the palace.
The knight from earlier was waiting, and he fell into step beside you without a word. Together, you made your way back through the corridors, your steps still slightly uncertain against the smooth floors. You stumbled once, catching yourself quickly, your face warming despite yourself, but the knight pretended not to notice.
The grand doors opened once more, revealing the throne room. This time, the space felt different. Less overwhelming, perhaps, or perhaps you were simply more aware of yourself within it. The maids attending the room cast brief, approving glances your way before returning to their work, and you found yourself standing a little straighter because of it.
His voice carried easily, drawing your attention at once.
The King remained seated upon the throne, one arm resting lightly against it, his posture composed but not rigid. There was something quieter in him now, less sharp than before, though no less commanding. The knight bowed deeply beside you, and you followed a second later, a little too slow, a little too unsure.
âHow did you find her?â the King asked.
The knight straightened and began to speak, but his words blurred at the edges of your awareness. Your focus had already shifted, drawn entirely to the man before you. His gaze was on you again, steady and assessing, though not as cutting as it had been before. It lingered, taking in your appearance now that it was no longer obscured. When the knight finished, the king gave a small nod, as though confirming something to himself.
The question was simple, but your throat tightened all the same. You managed to whisper it, the sound barely carrying across the space, A faint shift touched his expression, something almost like amusement, though softened by a weariness that sat just beneath the surface. He leaned forward slightly.
âYou must speak louder,â he said, his tone firm, though not unkind. âI will not have you trembling through every sentence.â
Heat rose to your face again, and you swallowed, forcing yourself to try again. This time your voice was clearer, though still unsteady. He nodded once. âIt is an unusual name,â he said. âBut it suits you well enough.â There only observation in his tone. âHow old are you?â
â35,â you answered, the words coming more easily now. That seemed to give him pause. Not long, only a brief flicker of surprise that passed quickly, replaced once more by that same measured composure. âVery well,â he said. âIf you do not already know, I am King Leon Kennedy.â
He regarded you for a moment longer, as though weighing something unseen.
âYou are in house Kennedy, You will remain here and tend to it.â he continued at last. âAs a maid, the work should steady you, and it will give you purpose while we determine what is to be done with you.â
His tone was decisive, leaving little room for protest, yet there was something beneath it that tempered the command. Not quite kindness, but something close. The kind of patience that came from long experience, from having seen more than he chose to say. You stood there, caught between disbelief and relief, unsure which feeling was stronger. âI believe there is one room remaining,â he added, with a small motion of his hand. âSee that she is settled.â
The knight bowed again and turned, and you followed after him, your steps quieter now, more measured. As you passed through the great doors once more, you could still feel the kingâs gaze on you, steady and unyielding, lingering until the last possible moment. The knight let you through the winding halls, It was surprising how nobody got lost in this place..
He let you down a flight of stairs, And you were met with halls filled with doors, And the last door at the very end, he stopped. âThese are your sleeping quarters. You start work tomorrow. Get some rest, There should be clothes for you in there already.â
the knight said before he turned and walked off, And you entered the room, It was surprisingly spacious.. the paintings on the wall told stories you couldnât understand yet, You approached the closet that was nearby the bed, Swinging the doors open, The outfits inside were like your own.
And the maids outfit was folded neatly on a shelf, You could tell by the apron on top of it. And a silk nightgown.. you took your dress off and threw it on, taking your flats off and setting them inside the closet.
And finally you sat down on the bed, that was surprisingly plush.. And much more comfortable than the hard mattress you slept on back home.. You lie down, And after thinking for a moment. about how your life had took such a drastic change.. about how youâd have to learn how to live in a world like this.
Then you closed your eyes, unable to continue thinking, sleep came easy.
You start new work tomorrow.
Tomorrow had to be better.
