Chapter 122 Bluestella?s last stand?
Black Dragon Gate Arc
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(POV: Bluestella)
I could feel the weight of my steel cuffs and chains as they clanked against each other.
"Your Majesty," Damian began, his voice resonating with authority, "the accused claims that she feels no remorse for her actions. However, she pleads for the leniency of exile rather than imprisonment and execution."
Taking a step forward, I met Damian's gaze unwaveringly.
"If I truly felt no remorse," I declared, my voice laced with conviction, "I would never have voluntarily turned myself in."
The courtroom brimmed with murmurs of agreement, displaying a glimmer of understanding from the crowd.
Suddenly, Arthur rose from his seat.
His voice cut through the air, carrying a sense of disdain.
"Your Majesty, that's a lie!" he exclaimed vehemently, his accusatory tone stinging like a venomous arrow. "The accused turned herself in because Lumiere learned of her treacherous plans. She merely regrets that he saw through her deceit, and I regret choosing to betray the trust of a man who had my best interests at heart for a stone hearted woman like her."
Damian's attention shifted, his gaze fixed upon the king, who sat gallantly, observing the proceedings with the wisdom of a sovereign. His eyes narrowed, casting a scrutinizing glance upon me, the accused.
"Your Majesty," Damian spoke with a tinge of urgency, presenting the newfound evidence, "with this revelation, it appears increasingly unlikely that the defendant deserves the mercy of exile."
Desperation mingled with determination as I raised my voice to counter this damning accusation. "But it's not true!" I implored, my words echoing through the room.
The king motioned for me to speak.
"Lumiere may have known of my intentions," I confessed, the courtroom hanging onto my every word, "but he possessed no concrete proof. He was unaware of the Duke's involvement, his knowledge merely scratching the surface."
A moment of silence followed.
"Then I'll grant you the benefit of doubt." (Grey)
Damian couldn't accept this. "But my ki-"
"My word is final." The king interjected.
"And I respect that, Your Majesty. But such level of leniency is unfair."
King Grey leaned forward on his throne, his piercing gaze fixated on Damian. "Are you questioning my judgment?" he queried authoritatively.
Damian quickly bowed his head, showing his utmost respect.
"No, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice filled with deference. "I simply believe there are several variables we have yet to consider."
Queen Ayisha leaned forward intrigued. "Pray, tell us, Damian, what variables are you referring to?"
"The mysterious death of the Duke and the fact that the true culprit remains unknown," he explained. "There are too many uncertainties that we cannot ignore."
"It wasn't Bluestella... she was with me in bed the night the Duke was killed," the king stated firmly.
His words reverberated through the courtroom, and the onlookers exchanged glances of surprise.
Undeterred, Damian persisted. "Your Majesty, there are still possibilities that she could have hired assassins to carry out the deed," he argued, risking the king's wrath.
The king's glare intensified, his patience wearing thin. "That's enough," he commanded. "I do not wish to hear any more of these baseless statements."
It was Queen Ayisha who intervened, her firm yet compassionate voice cutting through the tension. "Respect the wishes of the king," she advised, her gaze firm. "Unless you wish to find yourself in the same unfortunate position as the accused."
A murmur rippled through the courtroom, hinting at the underlying tension and suspense.
Master Herald Maxwell, the voice of order, called for silence, bringing the room back to attention.
The king finally turned his gaze back to me, his eyes tinged with heartbreak.
"Is it true, then?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of sadness and disbelief. "Did you attempt to kill Arthur simply because you were tired of being the second?"
"Y-yes... Your Majesty." I said.
He squeezed his eyes shut. "I see."
Finally...
Lord Cedric, the court advisor, wore an air of authority as he addressed the gathered crowd. His voice resonated through the hall as he instructed Damian, the royal prosecutor, to commence the customary legal proceedings for a traitor's punishment before exile.
The atmosphere hung heavy with tension as all eyes turned towards me, the accused.
Feeling the weight of his gaze, I locked eyes with the king, his disdain evident in his piercing stare.
Coldly, he rose from his ornate chair and promptly exited the chamber.
Following closely behind were Arthur and Vanessa.
Surprisingly, Queen Ayisha lingered for a moment, her eyes betraying a glimmer of sympathy before she too departed, leaving me to face the imminent judgment.
As the last of the courtiers retreated, the Court Scribe, Miss Adelaide Pennington, meticulously recorded each passing moment with her poised quill, etching the intense proceedings into the parchment of history.
The room fell eerily silent, the gravity of the situation hanging thick in the air.
Dominating the space with a twisted grin, Damian turned to face me, relishing every moment.
His voice dripped with sadistic pleasure as he stripped me of my prestigious titles, honors, and privileges one by one.
The weight of his words pressed against my soul, each syllable a cruel reminder of my shattered existence.
"By order of the kingdom, you shall be divested of all lands, castles, and properties awarded to you through your union with the king," Damian announced with a venomous satisfaction. "Furthermore, your position within the royal court shall be promptly revoked, and you shall be severed from any association with the esteemed royal entourage."
Words eluded me as I stood, my throat weighed down by the heavy chains of realization.
Unyielding, Damian continued, his words like a merciless blade.
"In accordance with the laws of our kingdom, your marriage to the king shall be dissolved through a formal annulment," he declared.
With a nod from Damian, Sergeant Isabella marched forward, her steps echoing ominously in the grand hall.
She carried in her hands the Accursed Iron Mask, a fearsome contraption crafted to strip its wearer of humanity and subject them to a lifetime of anonymity.
If anyone ever tried to remove it, they would instantly be cursed.
It was as if they intended to erase every trace of my existence.
I couldn't bear the thought of having my face hidden behind that cruel mask.
In a desperate plea for leniency, I cried out, "But the king never mentioned the iron mask! This is unjust!"
Damian scratched his well-groomed beard, a sinister smile playing on his lips.
"Well, then let's ask the king himself," he replied contemptuously. His mocking gaze swept the room before he declared, "Oh, but it seems the king has conveniently disappeared. How unfortunate for you."
I pushed forward, my once regal gown now threadbare and torn.
"This is a grave injustice," I muttered, my voice trembling. "I deserve a fair punishment."
Damian's eyes bore into mine, filled with disdain.
"You dare plead leniency? Filth like you, who committed treasonous crimes? Exile is too kind of a punishment for the likes of you."
"I demand an audience with the king!" I declared through gritted teeth, my voice shaking with emotion.
Damian chuckled darkly.
"Oh, I'm sorry... you don't have that privilege. Remember?"
The fury within me surged, overwhelming any remnants of rationality.
"BASTARD!!"
I lunged forward, my intent to assault Damian a clear reflection of my anguish.
But before I could reach him, one of the guards swiftly reacted, delivering a punishing blow to my gut.
I crumpled to the ground, my body wracked with pain and shame.
As I lay there, humiliated, the entirety of the courtroom laughed at me.
Why were they laughing?
Weren't they supposed to be impartial?
No... I deserved this.
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