The Dark Emperor steps into the room, doors swinging open without a touch.

Maybe with magic?

Considering what happened to the Chosen One when the Dark Emperor touched him, Soe wouldn’t want to be touched by him either.

The Dark Emperor walks forward to stand before the lines of prisoners.

“Welcome, “he says, voice echoing in the silence. The Dark Emperor glances over all of them and smiles. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

She stares.

Airin’s hand squeezes Soe’s. Soe doesn’t look at her.

Instead, she stares at this… this… cruel man. He will have them all put to death. All of them.

Even Airin.

She can hear Airin’s quiet sniffles and Soe can’t bring herself to look at her. But she continues to hold Airin’s hand.

The Dark Emperor signals at his guards and a guard shoves at the closest prisoner to step forward.

Peace… Peace wasn’t near.

It feels like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on her head and fear grips Soe’s heart.

“I issue a challenge!”

Soe’s eyes are open wide and she pays no mind as the people around her turn. Doesn’t look at Airin.

She just stares at this man, trembling where she stands. This man that will kill her today, regardless of what she did.

“Oh?” the Emperor asks, turning towards her.

But Soe’s tongue feels thick and sluggish. Dry, too. It’s hard to swallow her saliva. So she doesn’t reply, simply steps forward.

Airin’s hand feels like an iron cast, but Soe forces her to let go. She doesn’t once look at Airin’s face.

She stands alone.

“Well!” the Dark Emperor says, visibly amused.

Then he grins. He even strides over to sit in his throne, like this is a game.

Like Soe and Airin weren’t going to die, mere minutes from now.

But Soe plays the game.

She steps up to the throne and bows.

Three meters.

Her tears drip onto the floor in front of her and she straightens.

“So what brings you - pathetic, magical-less woman - before my throne?” The Dark Emperor asks her.

Soe looks up from his throat and meets his eyes. They gleam in the well lit room. There are no lights in the room - magical nor mundane - the glittering runes on the walls are probably how it’s possible. She wouldn’t know. Soe never bothered learning any magic.

And that would probably be the death of her.

Breath in.

“I come to issue a small... insignificant challenge, “Soe declares. Her voice is surprisingly even even as she continues to cry.

And that’s all it really is. A challenge for the sake of appearances.

What are her options? To die clinging to her love?

Or to die here, protecting the last bit of hope that Airin has in a peace future?

Soe already made her choice.

Breath out.

The Dark Emperor’s mouth opens to respond. And he gargles out a mess of syllables.

Soe and the Emperor stare at each other, faces twisted in mutual horror and alarm. Soe’s hand hangs empty in mid air from where the knife left her grip.

The Emperor gives speaking another try, but nothing resembling words tumbles out.

A choked out, warbled whine leaves his lips.

He can’t breathe, Soe realizes belatedly. She watches in a daze as the Emperor crumples in his throne.

Soe’s knife isn’t sharp. It isn’t meant to cut. It’s dull and is more likely to crush throats than cut them.

He curls in on himself, almost cradling the knife lodged into his throat, and-

And he doesn’t look strong.

He doesn’t look like a man capable of lifting a finger, much less commanding armies to overtake a kingdom.

He doesn’t look like a man capable of standing up to a Chosen One.

He looks like a man who could have his windpipe crushed under a mundane, magic-less knife thrown from three meters.

Soe’s eyebrows remain raised high on her face.

This was all it took?

The Chosen One was raised under the most expensive magical tutelage in the land. All the magic in the land - all the magic in this room, even - and it was Soe’s little, dull knife that did him in.

Soe can’t bring herself to speak as The Dark Emperor dies from lack of oxygen. It might have taken a minute, it might have taken an hour, but for the duration, she doesn’t dare move.

The funny thing was - if Soe had any authority on amusing topics to think about while watching someone die - that the Dark Emperor whimpered. He squirmed. He clutched at himself, clawing at his sleeves and arms and hair, but never did he leave his throne.

And finally, the Dark Emperor died.

Not in a fancy duel against the Chosen One of the Week. Not against the previous king, while trying to overthrow the throne.

But against a woman with less knowledge of magic than your average child.

There’s a strange shimmering in the air - like a mist - that hovers in the air before finally settling down around Soe.

There’s the grinding of metal against metal as the Dark Emperor’s guards point their magical weapons at her.

Dangerdangerdanger-

“No!” Soe pleads and there’s a brilliant flash. There’s knowledge there, in her brain, that wasn’t there before.

The Throne Room is at her disposal. Somehow. But there’s no time to question it.

“No magic!” she hurriedly orders.

And the Throne Room sucks out the magic in the guards’ attacks.

There’s a presence in the back of Soe’s head and she knows it’s this room. It warns her of danger - which, thanks. Soe can clearly see the angry guards in front of her. She can also pinpoint all the Lunaris Knights in relation to her position. They’re moving towards the Throne Room.

Must’ve felt the position of king shift to a new person.

Is this what magic was capable of?

It’s exhilarating. Powerful. Overwhelming.

There’s a battle at the border and the Knights are losing. There’s a battle down below in the Capital and the Knights are winning. There’s a fight outside the Throne Room- which she can hear and she doesn’t need some magical, second conscious informing her of it and-

Lunaris Knights slam into the room and swiftly move to attack the guards.

What follows is a strange fight in which both sides keep attempting to use magic, stumble over the lack of it, and are forced to settle things the mundane way. And the Lunaris Knights are good at it, but not Good. Just decent.

At least the Dark Emperor’s guards aren’t any better at it.

Soe looks away from the fighting to stare at the corpse again. She considers it for a moment before deciding to leave her knife where it is.

He can keep it.

In the time Soe looked away, the Lunaris Knights have gotten the upper hand. The Throne Room trills in the back of her head. It tells her of hundreds upon hundreds of battles within the kingdom and of the constantly shifting odds.

The Room nudges her and it takes Soe a moment to realize what it’s asking for. Permission to pass on information to other Lunaris Knights.

Yeah, sure.

She lets the Room do what it wants.

And then Lunaris is winning.

--

“All hail the king!” calls out one of the Knights after the battle.

Soe snaps out of her daze and whips around to stare at the knight. What.

“All hail the king!” chorus all the Knights, together.

“What? No!” Soe shakes her head.

“...King?” one of the Knights asks, hesitantly.

“No!” She doesn’t want to be king. “I’m not- I’m not staying. I’m leaving. You can find yourselves another king.”

“That’s not how it works…”the Knight mumbles, “The one who defeats the king will inherit the seat. Unless you’re a Chosen One. Or Dark Emperor…”

“No!” Soe protests. The King was dead. The Chosen One was dead. Airin and her were taken prisoner. And now the Emperor was dead. Things were happening too fast and she didn’t understand, but- “No! I am no king! I am no royalty, I am no Chosen One, and I am definitely no Emperor.”

She shakes her head in furious confusion.

“I’m not special. I killed the Emperor because he was going to kill me and my love. And-... and we’re going to return home and live the rest of our lives together, “Soe’s voice wavers and she sees Airin make her way to Soe’s side, “And that’s it.”

Soe reaches out and takes Airin’s hands in her own. She swallows.

She seeks out Airin’s eyes, asking for comfort. For reassurance that she’s making the right decision.

She really, really, really doesn’t want to be king. It’s not who Soe wants to be.

Soe isn’t special.

Airin smiles - tired and eyes swollen from crying - but still so very, very beautiful. It gives Soe strength beyond measure.

She straightens her back and together they make their slow way out the unnecessarily large, intricate doors of the throne room. Airin’s hand clutched in her grip.

But she stops at the door.

Airin gives her a questioning look and Soe turns around without letting go of her hand.

“If you’re willing to listen, “Soe calls out to the dumbfounded Knights, loud enough to be heard by the whole room, “I have one request.”

Soe stares up at the corpse. All that trouble for a throne.

Well, he can keep it.

She uses her free hand to point at the throne, and the body still in it.

“Leave him there. To rot, “Soe tells them. Airin squeezes her hand in silent surprise. “Leave him there and close the throne room. When the next person comes that wants the throne, let them remove the corpse themselves.”

Soe is dirty, tired, and maybe a bit spiteful.

The Throne Room trills in the back of her head, but she won’t take the throne.

“Let that be a lesson. For there doesn’t need to be a Chosen One to kill a king.”