Astralis Plot Drop
tw: gore, blood, violence, murder
The irony of the time was not lost on her as Noelle Kumar perched idly waiting in a comfortable cast of darkness for the last guard to make his rounds around the bend of the high lordâs bed chambers. The last cover of night kissing up to her skin from where she hide, pressed up against the ledge of the window. A velvety drape tucking her perfectly out of any passerbyâs view.Â
How many times had she roamed these very halls? How many times had she accompanying her once âmasterâ to visit âtheir high lordâ? She could practically picture her once innocent little feet scurrying towards the chambers her target now resided in to deliver the man whom had been some twisted father figure to her and the high lord Lysander a bottle to drink, before exiting so that the âgrown upsâ could entertain each other. Once upon a time, a little human named Noelle had truly believed that the faes had her best interests at heart. After all, her âmasterâ had dream walked into her head night after night to convince her as such even after he had worked her mother to her death. She had been manipulated for years to believe that the minor lord she had been indentured to cared about her as Lysander, the High Lord himself, encouraged it all. The Dawn Courts common tongue was spoken intentionally so that the humans residing in the court like her wouldnât be able to understand them for crying out loud. It was depressing really to think back at how completely ignorant she had been once upon a time. But if only those faes could only see her now, she thought. Hopping down from her ledge, she moved silently down the hall before slipping inside Lysanderâs room.Â
The great High Lord laid stretched across his bed with a lopsided smile across his sleeping face, a courtesan snuggled up to his side. The resistance leader, dressed from head to toe in black, with a mask of fabric concealing most her face, held the edge of a dagger up against the courtesanâs neck as she quietly stirred them awake. Her face remaining stoic as she took in the wide and fearful eyes of the half dressed human. Bringing a finger up to her lips as she motioned with the slightest tilt of her head for the servant to quietly leave the room, waiting until the courtesan had safely slipped out before her attention fell back to blondeâs unbeknownst and yet smirking face.Â
The Resistance had already declared war. Celineâs little stunt at the Beaumont and Wren wedding had assured that and, along with it, any hope of equality between the fae and humans. No high lord or high lady or laird would listen to them now as they tried to pitch an alliance or plan of reform. Not with the bloody present they had dropped off for the entire council of fae leaders.Â
Personally, Noa didnât hate all fae nor did she blame them all for those specific few who chose to play the role of an oppressor. She hated the system. She hated the way their society justified the treatment of humans or anyone for that matter as second class citizens. But, what she hated or didnât, no longer matter. The courts were reinforcing their security and putting their resources behind finding any resistance member they could make an example of. It was only a matter of time before they were found out. They had to act and they had to act now. Her people had nominated Santiago and her to be their leaders and, as their leaders, they needed to do what was best for the group as a whole and if their people wanted to take back the lands that had been stolen from them? Well, then Noa would lead the charge. Collateral damage be damned and maybe some sweet justice for the little girl she once was at the same time.
So, without a second a thought, Noa sliced her blade across the High Lordâs neck in one swift and precise strike so that he wouldnât be able to make a sound. The King of Daydreams would be permanently etched into one. But, the poetic justice didnât end there. This was the death of a High Lord. The King of Phoenixs. If she was ever found out, this could be it for her after this, so sheâd better make the most of it. And so the resistance leader took one of the half finished liquor bottles Lysander and his courtesan had been drinking and poured it over the bed, before taking a nearby candle and letting the sheets aflame. âSo from the ashes, may a kingdom be reborn,â she whispered to herself as she disappeared through an open window from whence she came. A musical silence filling the air as the first rays of Dawn finally broke across the night sky.











