RP:Kill For Me, I Kill For You

From HollowWiki

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc



Summary: In an attempt to escape the aftermath of declaring herself Queen, Hildegarde attempted to hide away in the council room of the Vailkrin castle only to encounter Caedan. The mysterious girl questions her about her future and whether or not she desires to slay Balgruuf the usurper. Finally, Caedan offers to slay Balgruuf if Hildegarde will slay a man in return for her.

Vailkrin Council Room

Caedan sits at the desk raised above the central table below, sprawled in the velvet chair, legs over one arm, back propped against the other. She’s shoeless; her shoes — too large boots, really — are on the table below, tossed there perhaps from their careless position. The psychic casually and periodically scrawls something in midair with a quill pen that has a very large ornamental plume, perhaps a decorative writing utensil more than a practical one.


Hildegarde needed to escape the looks everyone was giving her. Since her accidental declaration of Queendom, the knight had found herself the recipient of funny looks from the castle staff: more bows and curtseys, people insisting on calling her ‘ladyship’ or ‘Majesty’. Even titles such as ‘Queen’ had her running away in fright! The knight fled to the council room, shutting the door behind her with a little sigh. This is an ideal place to escape to. It promises privacy and sanctuary: books to read! But that privacy is impossible with the mysterious figure sitting at the raised desk; legs over the arm of the chair and shoes on the table below. “Oh. Hello,” the knight greeted almost abashedly. She hadn’t meant to interrupt. But then she hadn’t expected to see the girl here. The writing motions don’t escape her notice. “Writing something interesting?” she asks with a genuine curiosity.


Caedan doesn’t bother looking down from her penmanship as she hears the door open and close; it’s not a threat. She lowers her pen as the knight — queen — speaks and finally drags her attention from her invisible writing to look down at Hildegarde. “Hello,” she answers, in common, with the correct greeting in response, as opposed to chatter about feathers, or murder. “I’m working out how many years it will take until I’m not mad anymore. If I’ve got the numbers right, I won’t be crazy anymore after seventeen more years.” She straightens to sit in her chair more properly. “When you get it, will you let me wear it?”


Hildegarde made a little ‘huh’ in response to that statement. It wasn’t a ‘huh’ of ‘you are crazy’ but more a ‘huh’ of ‘oh that’s pretty interesting’. “That’s not very long, really,” she said in a conversational manner, as if what Caedan had said was totally normal and not off the wall at all! “When I get what?” She thinks about her mithril armour, still stuck in Frostmaw under the watchful eye of Balgruuf’s cronies, emblazoned with her own personal sigil and an enchantment put upon it by Satoshi. Surely that armour wouldn’t fit Caedan.


Caedan gestures vaguely at her head and that’s all the elucidation Hildegarde receives in response to her question. She very carefully puts one barefoot down on the floor and then the next. “I have to live here now. It’s because of the imposter. But you know very well about imposters. Do you want to kill him? The one who has taken what belongs to you.”


Hildegarde frowned a little bit at Caedan’s gesture, as if not totally sure what she meant until that sudden and embarrassing realisation kicked in. “Oh,” she clasped her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger, “I… I don’t know if that’s something I’d wear.” Should she? A blue iron band would be a fine symbol. The metal of Frostmaw, but not pompous. No, Hildegarde, don’t think of it! “No,” she answered thoughtfully, eventually taking a seat. “He has taken something that belongs to me, that is true. He is cruel and vainglorious, yes. But… A good lord will take care of the real threat,” Balder, the son, the one who made the militia and bullied other giants into joining their racist and xenophobic crusade, “A good lord will deal steel and fire unto his enemies. Yet when his enemies fall to their knees, they will help them back to their feet for if they do not… well, no one would bend the knee to them. No man can rule if he must consistently scream ‘I am the king’. Not truly.”


Caedan listens for a few seconds until she starts pantomiming Hildegarde as she goes on with her knight’s oath or whatever. “I was a king once, you know.” She rolls her head to look at the queen errant. Carefully, she climbs out of her chair and advances to just before the ice bridge forms, connecting the little alcove to its lower quadrant. “My people loved me. The ants especially.” She takes a breath. “Your struggle is with an imposter, no matter what you call him. He doesn’t belong where he is. That is an imposter. My struggle is with an imposter, too. The day I am rid of him will be a good day indeed.” She stares at Hildegarde for a few prolonged seconds. “I could kill yours, you know. I could kill yours and you could kill mine.”


Hildegarde listened to Caedan as she spoke of being a king and ruling over the little ants. The knight wasn’t sure what she had come to expect of Caedan. What would the girl say next? Of course, she didn’t expect this. Couldn’t have expected this, really. I mean, she could have, had she thought of it a little but she always wanted to see the best in people! “He is not yours to kill,” she said, trying not to be sharp as she said it. “Nor am I an executioner,” nor did she really know who she had in mind. She had an idea, though.


Caedan huffs at Hildegarde. The queen errant is being unreasonable, and it’s impossible to deal with someone refusing to see reason. She remains perched at the edge of the ice path back down to the room proper. “You would if you knew how many lives it would save. Maybe you are not as good as I thought.”


Hildegarde sighed gently at that remark. She had nothing to prove to Caedan or to anyone for that matter. “Maybe I am not,” she retorted with a shrug, seeming nonplussed. “You assume I know exactly who you’re referring to. Or your reasons why.”


Caedan squints at Hildegarde, screwing up her face in skepticism. “Of course I know who you’re referring to. Why wouldn’t I?” She gestures to the bridge. “Are you going to help me with this or not?”


Hildegarde frowned. Did Caedan just flip that on her? That was too much thinking. Just let it go. “What would you like me to do?” she rises from the seat, ready to assist.


Lionel may have done battle against would-be assassins alongside an enigmatic vampiress who might have wanted to eat him just twenty minutes prior but all-in-all he’s been having a good day until he sees Caedan Navarre grilling Queen Hildegarde for help with a bridge. He straightens his button-down black shirt, flinches to set Hellfire at a more comfortable spot upon his back, and prepares himself for another beatdown he won’t try to prevent. There’s nothing for it, then. “Hildegarde,” he calls, not feeling particularly sorry for the interruption in the wake of whatever fresh hell that Catalian might be plotting even now. “Two things, briefly: one, your soldiers learned a few new techniques today that your sergeants will detail if you like; two, I just ran into a fiery redhead down in some shadowy hall and we staved off a quartet of bloodthirsty poison-spewing ghouls, so… uh, that happened.” He nods briskly. “I’m on the investigation.”


Caedan sneers at Lionel from where she stands, caught at the edge of the bridge. “Go away, you rat bastard. This is a meeting between honorable people.” Then, to Hildegarde, “With the bridge.” Duh. “I can’t walk on it. I haven’t any shoes.” She gestures wildly at the icy pass, clearly making her desire known that Hildegarde should just … fix this — perhaps because she has an affinity with ice, but Caedan would nothing know about that. Probably.


Hildegarde hadn’t expected a very warm welcome for Lionel from Caedan. So far, she had seen a very tense relationship between the two. “I would be interested in learning those details when you have the time, Lionel,” she said to him, “it’s important that I stand as an equal with my men, so I would wish to know and learn the same.” The tidbit about the redhead earns a nod of the head, but Hilde is being requested to help with the icy pass. Without a word or hint of effort, the knight lifted one of the heavy armchairs and approached Caedan. Popping the chair down, she gestured to it, “Sit,” she bade the girl before lifting the chair and crossing the pass as she then addressed Lionel. “I’ll go in a moment,” meaning once she had successfully crossed the path with Caedan in the chair – so her bare feet need not touch the ice – she would depart and seek out Khitti, “and investigate the matter. The only redhead I can think of here is Khitti. She’s been meaning to talk to me, I think.”


Lionel snaps his fingers, although his face is a full moon of bewilderment at the sight of... whatever it is... that... the two women are currently engaged in. If in some distant dimension there existed a Lionel who could bid Caedan sit, he might find a way there and never return. “Khitti, that’s the one,” he agrees matter-of-factly. “Right, well this is a meeting between one honorable person and one shoes-less person and a chair, so I’ll get back to the… aforementioned… investigation.” What in tarnation.


Caedan sits in the chair and lets Hildegarde transport her. She glowers and mutters about dishonorable people, though, mass murderers, mass murdering mass murderers. She climbs out of the chair once she's been transported and she steps from the seat of the chair to standing atop the table, using Hildegarde's shoulder to steady herself. "She's not a cat," she provides helpfully, for Hildegarde's next person to interview. "Very misleading. Don't be fooled."