𝐼𝑁𝑁𝑂𝐶𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝐿𝑂𝑆𝑇 // 𝐴. 𝐷𝐸 𝑅𝑈𝑁𝐸

𝐼𝑉

| IV. Meaning of Mercy |

—

Béatrice's sudden arrival seemed to send a wave of calm through Marion. Having an adult in her presence felt reassuring, it made her feel like they actually had a chance at getting out of their situation alive. Being calm was vital for Marion; the girl noticed that if she was calm in a seemingly stressful situation, there would be a lesser chance of her being sent into a full-on coughing fit.

Marion took in a deep breath, and lowered her throwing knife. Hugo ran into his mother's arms with no hesitation, the little boy was finally with his mother again. It took Amicia a few moments before she left Marion's side to take her mother's hand.

It made Marion think of her own father, who was probably dead with a slit in his neck. Her father who sang her to sleep when nightmares filled her head, and always sneaked her little cakes and treats after visiting the kitchens. Her father was dead.

The dark-haired girl bit her lip, and fiddled with the handle of her throwing knife. She willed her tears away– there was no reason to cry; her father was gone and crying wouldn't bring him back.

"What is happening?" Amicia asked her mother, her voice shaky and strained.

Chaos.

Béatrice stood up after looking her children over, her hold on Hugo's shoulders unwavering.

"We will be alright, do you hear me?" She reassured me, "Allez."

Marion doubted that; if they could cut through servants like they were mice then what would stop them from slaughtering a woman, two girls, and a five-year-old boy? Marion followed the family out of the kitchen door, a glare planted onto her face.

She felt a lot of emotions, too many emotions. She felt scared, and sad, and confused– she could list them all off for hours. It made her feel like there was something in her chest, growing and festering by the minute, spreading through her limbs and making her hands shake. The Dubois girl just wanted to explode into a million pieces.

Her hold on the handle of her throwing knife had grown strong enough that her knuckles began to turn white, and a dull ache settled into her palm.

"We have to cross the gardens." Béatrice informed the children, her voice stern.

"Amicia, hold your brother's hand and follow me in silence." The woman instructed, as she began to crouch down.

Marion followed Amicia and Hugo down the steps, subconsciously holding her breath when she noticed the guard that had his back turned towards them. She kept her grip on her throwing knife firm, just in case...

"Through the grass, they won't be able to see us." Béatrice instructed, as she led the children into the tall grass.

Marion followed Amicia, Hugo, and Béatrice into the grass– she hated the way it brushed against her hands and face. As of that moment, Marion hated a lot of things. She felt her breath hitch when a guard passed the grass they walked through, dragging one of the gardeners with him. The knights of the Inquisition truly did not know the meaning of mercy, it made her stomach churn. How could one be so cruel?