Decreash Imperial Palace
The evening sun grazed the high pillars of the castle, casting a golden hue on the terrace.
Birds tweeted and flapped their wings above in the sky as they retired to their nests, and the branches of the tree swayed, dry leaves falling to the ground.
A figure brushed past the enchanting garden, gliding through the endless flowers towards the direction where herbs were planted.
Her black wavy hair glistened under the ray of the sun, and her hazel brown eyes shimmered. Her steps were casual; as she moved from one herb plant to another, her lean fingers reached out to pluck the selected herbs.
In her left hand was a basket made out of straws.
"Ouch!
Micah hissed when a spiky herb punctured through her fair thumb, causing blood to ooze out.
She watched the blood gush out slowly, streaking along her finger, until it dropped on the ground.
She sighs and then takes one of the herbal leaves from the basket. She squeezed the leaf against the wounded part to make the blood cease, and in a few moments it did.
Having finished what she came here for, she retired to her chamber and then summoned Tamar, her personal maid.
"Boil these leaves together, under low heat. Stir when the mixture becomes thick, and then serve it in a bowl after straining out the leaves, leaving only the juice behind."
She gave the instructions meticulously before handing over the herbal leaves she had plucked to her personal maid, Tamar.
Tamar did as she was told, without asking questions. Some hours later she was back with the mixture she had prepared.
Steam emitted from the bowl of herbal tea as she presented it to Micah.
"Drink it."
"What?"
Tamar's face fell.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
Micah said, without lifting her gaze from where she was seated on a wooden chair, her eyes fixed on a book she was reading.
With no choice left, Tamar was forced to take a sip from the herbal tea.
When her tongue came in contact with the tea, her taste buds tingled; the tea had a spicy but intoxicating taste.
"How does it taste?"
Micah questions flipping the page of her book.
"Spicy, but also slightly bitter."
Tamar answered candidly, and Micah finally raised her gaze, her brown eyes resting on the maid.
"Good…very good."
She says while shutting the book in her hand close, then she rises up to her feet.
"Come with me."
She commanded as she brushed past the maid.
Quietly Tamar trailed behind her until they arrived at Ragaleon's chamber.
There were two knights positioned in front of the door, but they gazed away immediately, giving room for Micah to step in.
Immediately she steps in; her eyes landed on him… Ragaleon.
"He has gotten worse."
Her voice held so many emotions as she said those words.
She signaled the maid to draw nearer, then she took the bowl of tea from her carefully before making her way towards the bedside, where she sat down.
By now the herbal tea had cooled down to the perfect temperature, just as she had wanted it.
The steam rose faintly, carrying the bittersweet scent of crushed herbs. Ragaleon remained still, unmoving, lashes resting against hollowed cheeks, breath shallow but still there—still enough.
She set the bowl aside for a moment and slid one arm beneath his neck, lifting him just enough to ease the strain. His head lolled with the weight of unconsciousness, and she adjusted, angling him slightly so the liquid would not pool at the back of his throat.
With her free hand, she brushed her thumb across his lips, a gentle, patient pressure. They parted at last.
She dipped the spoon and brought it to his mouth, letting only a little tea touch his tongue.
She waited, counting the faint rise of his chest, before tipping the spoon further. A thin line escaped the corner of his mouth, dark against his skin. At once, she reached for the cloth and dabbed around the corner of his lips.
Again and again, she repeated the ritual. Lift. Part his lips. Pour slowly. Pause.
When his head sagged, she steadied it, arching it just enough to guide the tea down.
Just as she raised the spoon again, the faint clink of metal trembling between her fingers, the chamber door burst open with a thunderous bang.
"Seize her!"
The cry sliced through the stillness.
Selena, the queen dowager, strode in, her eyes narrowed into slits, dark and fever-bright.
An unhinged fury flashed across her face as though something feral had been lost within her.
The guards barely had time to react to the command before she surged forward. In two swift steps, she reached the bedside and tore the bowl from Micah's grasp. The sudden force sent a few drops of the herbal tea splashing across the sheets.
She hurled the bowl away, and it struck the stone floor, skidded, and then landed with a sharp, echoing clack before shattering into jagged shards.
"What are you doing?!
Micah was baffled by her insolence, her shock barely contained as her gaze flickered to the guards rushing in from the edges of the chamber.
"Don't you dare touch me…"
The words never reached their end.
Rough hands clamped around her wrist, the grip unyielding. She was wrenched forward with an abrasive pull that stole her balance, the sudden force dragging her away from the bedside as the air rushed from her lungs.
The chamber spun for a breath, the bed and Ragaleon blurring behind her, while the guards tightened their hold as though she were already a criminal.
Micah's gaze darkened as she turned toward the queen dowager.
Selena was now standing by the bedside, her posture suddenly tender, almost reverent.
She caressed the Ragaleon's cheeks with slow, possessive strokes, bending close to his face to whisper words only a loving mother would.
"How dare you let them treat me this way?"
Micah's jaw tightened.
Her teeth gnashed as she strained against the guards' hold, muscles burning as she tried to wrench herself free, but their grips only hardened, locking her in place.
"You are a traitor," Selena hissed, straightening at last.
"An enemy of the realm."
She pointed a rigid finger at Micah, her voice rising as she began to hurl her accusations.
"I am only trying to help," Micah said, her voice strained but steady.
"He is sick, and the grandmaester's medicines have had little to no effect. Do you want him to die?"
"My son will not die!"
Selena's scream tore through the chamber, so loud it ricocheted off the stone walls and echoed into the corridors beyond.
Down the passageway, Amilek halted mid-stride. He heard the shrill fury in her voice and slowed, a chill crawling up his spine.
"Take her away," Selena snapped, already turning her back. "Get her out of my face."
She dismissed Micah with a sharp wave of her hand, her attention returning to the bed.
Micah struggled with every shred of strength she had, twisting and wrenching against the guards' hold, but it was futile. Their grip did not falter.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" She snapped, turning her head sharply to look at them both. "I am your queen."
Defiance blazed in her eyes, but it found no mercy in their faces.
"Lock her up in her room," Selena's voice rang out behind them, cold and commanding.
"She has lost her senses; she wants to kill my son!
The guards did not hesitate. They dragged Micah down the hallways, their boots striking the stone in a harsh, unyielding rhythm.
In the roughness of their handling, the pins tore loose from her hair.
What had once been set in an intricate, orderly style came undone, tumbling free in disheveled waves, cascading down her shoulders.
Strands fell across her face, clinging to her cheeks and mouth, obscuring her vision as she stumbled forward, half-pulled, half-thrown, the last remnants of her composure unraveling with every step.
When they reached her chamber, the guards wrenched the door open and hurled her inside as though she were nothing more than a pile of trash.
She staggered forward, barely catching herself, before her knees struck the floor. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, and she collapsed fully, palms scraping against the cold stone.
As the door began to close, she twisted around from where she lay and forced herself upright.
"No… no… no!"
Her feet flew across the floor, bare steps padding urgently against the stone as she lunged toward the narrowing gap. She was too late.
The door slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.
She threw herself against it, pounding with both fists, the sound dull and desperate. Her hand clutched the handle, as though it would magically give way, and the door would open.
She kept pounding on the door until her knuckles blanched white, the skin burning with every strike.
"Let me out!"
She screamed it without restraint, her voice raw and unguarded, no longer caring who might hear or what dignity she shed in the process. The echo of her cries rebounded off the walls, unanswered.
Minutes bled into what felt like hours. Her blows slowed, then faltered, until her arms finally gave out. Breathless and shaking, she sagged back from the door.
She shuts her eyes, sweat trickling down her skin, then she smacks her lips before screaming…
"The queen dowager has lost her mind… You all have lost your minds!"