The frigidity of dread is ravaged by wrath's volcanic air, choking any noise from escaping Cloud's throat. The tremor of her hands seeps through the rest of her body. Her mind falls silent. There are no thoughts, simply a wordless rage. The thorns of the Judgment Rose adorning her hair pierce her scalp, but she's hardly even in her body anymore. Her violently unsteady hands slip into the pocket slits of her gown.

Ale's eyes are torn to the familiar reach for a weapon. He'd been waiting for Cloud to wave him forward to look, but now his eyes dart to the side of Cloud's face. To passerby, it would seem blank, but Ale knows a murderous gaze when he sees one. Cloud's hands begin to slide out of her skirts, a sword in each hand. "Princess!" He hisses. Honestly, Cloud had forgotten he was there, because it doesn't matter. What matters is Tulip Garden, hanged not even six meters away like some morbid ornament. Blaze didn't even make her a gallows. Cloud couldn't care less what Tulip was charged with, genuine or not. Her mother has done a lot to Cloud, too much to even recall by this point, but that matters little. Tulip, however, how dare she lay a finger on Tulip. 

Cloud has bottled up a cellar's worth over the years, and every single bottle teeters on the edge of spilling just above her head. Her blades rattle quietly against their sheaths, still half inside. What was the purpose of it all? What was the point of taking her mother's shit all these years? What was the point of being a good little girl if this is what it led to? What's the point of anything? Tulip is quite literally the only reliably good thing in Cloud's life, the sole reason she gets out of bed in the morning. Cloud stepped into her mother's hellish shadow to protect the shell of a life she could maintain for as long as she can remember. And for what? For it all to be yanked from her weak, decaying grasp? For it all to be torn to pieces like a flower in a typhoon? Air escapes her lungs, light and shuddering as she drains what little restraint she has left.

Because as much as she'd love to shriek and sprint out there, blades swinging, as much as she'd like to slash her mother's throat open, to twist her saber into her empty heart, as much as she wants her mother dead in this moment, Cloud is hysterically afraid of Blaze Spark.

Ale seizes one of her wrists, preventing the full draw of her sword. He tugs her away from the edge easily, placing himself between her and the horrific sight. He peeks; he can't help it. It's a quick glance he'll recall for the rest of his days. The queen converses, stern and quiet, with a small group of soldiers beside the garden's tree. Ale screws his eyes shut, a breath rushing from his lungs. He intakes air with a shake of his head, regaining some composure. He grabs Cloud's other wrist. "As much as I agree with the sentiment," he whispers, rushed, "you cannot kill the queen." Cloud doesn't reply, merely shifts her previously unfocused gaze directly into Ale's eyes. He stiffens. Eyes like fire, she is definitely Blaze's daughter. He hurries, "Listen, she deserves it. Entirely. But, if you kill her now, it'll shatter the feeble structure this country is propped upon. Your father's not fit to rule, we both know he's a drunkard. You are young, even if you took the crown there would be a coup to remove you within months. It's the same for Summer. With no adequate person to take the throne, we would dip into a power struggle bloody enough to rival that of twenty years ago. Don't do this." Cloud's jaw sets, glare slowly stripping Ale's certainty away. "Not now."

With a logical explanation now paired with Cloud's crippling terror of her mother, her incensed eyes fall to the ground. She slips her blades back into their concealed sheathes. She wants to snap them back in place, or to slash them against the wall, but the fury simmers inside her instead. She's just barely holding those bottled emotions on their shelves, but she’s not dropping them here, not with an audience.

What does she even do now? Go back to the party? Fuck that. To her room? To pretend to sleep? To wake up the next day and pretend like nothing's wrong? Cloud can't just, just not do something. She can't be here. She can't be around her mother, but she has nowhere else to go! 

She runs her hands through her hair, messing up the style Tulip had done for her. Tulip. Tulip trusts Ale. Ale said things he could be killed for to Cloud just now. "Can you get me out of here?" She rasps, wrenching her empty, worthless hands from her hair. Ale’s stance shifts, still ready to grab her should she make a run for it toward her mother but relaxed enough to show he’s no longer assuming that to be her first move. "Just for a while?" Her eyes return to Ale's, dimmer this time.

To him, the crown princess looks like a vibrantly alive corpse, an empty husk colored with anger. Cloud balls her fists in her skirt. She could probably shred it if she wanted to, with the force of her clenched fingers. "Where do you want to go?"

She seethes through grit teeth, "Anywhere but here." Lowering her face, once more avoiding eye contact, she rumbles, "I'll figure it out from there." Ale runs through the list of exactly why he should not remove the eldest daughter of Queen Blaze Spark from the castle property, runs through every reason why he shouldn't bring her to any place that immediately comes to mind. Then, he spots the yellow rose in her hair, the flower Tulip had mentioned placing there. Being taller than her, it's easy to see from this angle. The thorns stab outward, staining her spring green hair a muddy red. If only for a moment, she was completely serious about killing her mother.

Tulip trusted her.

"Get some different clothes on, and I'll get you out of here," he decides. Cloud rakes in a deep breath and nods.

"Follow me, please," Cloud requests, turning back around to enter the castle once more. Follow he does. It's a trek from the bottom floor to Cloud's bedroom beside one of the towers, but neither of them are consciously aware of it. Cloud's mind is both hollow and racing simultaneously, thoughts blurred into emotions more than words. Ale is forcing himself to think clearly, formulating some sort of plan to follow for the next day or so. Tulip was a large part of both their lives, and some reorganizing is in order. Cloud allows Ale into her room to keep from being seen while she changes in the closet. She emerges with her hair braided back and in a kimono in place of her gown. The speed at which she changed would impress Strong if he knew that she did it without magic’s aid. She makes her way to a vanity against the wall, setting her previously concealed weapons against it in order to wipe some of the makeup off. She tilts her head, making sure what’s left is still even, then turns to retrieve her weapons. After taking another look at her, Cloud's androgynous without all the decoration. Even her kimono is tied ambiguously. She turns to face Strong, rose held securely in the hand unoccupied by straps and sheaths. It’s piercing her skin, leaving little crimson dots. "Is this good enough?" It's nice fabric, but passably casual for a more vain member of the upper class. Ale nods.

Gesturing to her hand, he says, "You can't bring all those, though, it'll raise eyebrows. Pick a few." 

Cloud analyzes her small armory and snappishly drops most of it near the door, leaving her with her swords to belt at her sides and a knife which she can conceal. She crosses her arms and awaits input. Ale nods. 

Cloud adds, “By the way, I’ve got a much more casual yukata on under this, so don’t worry about that,” Cloud says as she sets the rose upon her vanity with a level of care that betrays her anger. With that hand free, she sets up her weapons.

"Sounds good. Alright, so. How are we doing this? I'm not amazing with magic, do you think you could teleport us?"

"No, I'd be too far off in this emotional state," Cloud snips, picking the golden rose back up. Ale can tell she’s embarrassed from how childish that sounds. It’s surprising to hear she struggles with magic, too. One would think the princess would have the best trainers available. "My magic's hard to reign when I'm angry." 

"Okay," Ale states, neutral. "We'll have to sneak you out the classic way." Cloud adjusts the placement of her obi. It's done rather well for being thrown on so quickly and irritability. 

"There's a hidden ladder outside the window at the end of the hall, if you're not afraid of heights," she offers. "Is your magic passable enough to stick metal pins in a hole to put it back in place once we’re on the ground?"

"Yes," he replies flatly to the unappreciated, but understandable, clipped words. Cloud flinches, realizing what she said.

"My apologies. I-” she sighs. “Alright, I'll check the hall before we leave my room," she informs before cracking her door open.

"Hello," Summer smiles from the other side. Cloud jerks back violently at her proximity, allowing Summer the chance to slam her palm onto the door and swing it open before Ale has a chance to hide. "I saw you leave with the Lieutenant General here." She leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Followed you, eavesdropped a bit. When you came back inside, I was surprised by how shaken up you both were." Her general gaze on the both of them zeros in on Cloud. With a lopsided smirk, she asks, "Really? You're acting like you've never seen a corpse before." Recovered from the small heart attack, Cloud's fists clench at her side, thorns pricking her palm. Her lips press thin. Ale glances between the two, trying to discern the level of danger that's just blocked the door. Summer tilts her head. "What? No response?"

"You're not stupid, Summer," Cloud sneers. "I recognize that. Realize I'm not, either." Summer pouts.

"You're no fun," she huffs. A flicker of lightning flashes in Cloud's eyes before she snaps her hand forward to fist around Summer's fishu, yanking her inside the bedroom and kicking the door shut behind her.

"Is this a game to you?" Cloud questions, voice calm while her tendons present on the back of her hand. “Somebody’s dead.” Summer just keeps smiling, arms still folded, not sparing a glance to the vice grip on her clothes.

"Cloud, please, you're being dramatic," Summer accuses. "All the other dangling bodies throughout the years were somebody, too. She was just a lady-in-waiting, you'll get another one."

Cloud sputters. "She is not an object to be replaced," she hisses. Summer scans Cloud's face for a brief moment.

"Was," she corrects. Cloud's frustration is being leashed by a single thread, but at that, at the hammer's slam against the final nail in the coffin, anger's color drips from her face, melting like wax. She releases her death grip on Summer and just looks lost. She just did this to Ale Strong, too. Cloud’s grudge is not with either of them. It’s with her mother. A wave of numbness covers the lava pit of rage, dulling it to a chill.

Tulip's dead. What is she going to do? Running buys her time to figure it out, but where does she even start? Cloud brings her newly free hand to scrub her eyes. "I don't have the energy for this," she grumbles. Summer huffs a quick laugh at the words Cloud so commonly utters.

"So, what?" Summer asks, eyeing the Lieutenant General as if she’d forgotten he was there, as if he couldn’t be less of a threat. "Are you ordering him to sneak you out? You're just gonna run because your special little maid isn't there to tuck you in tonight?" Cloud drops her hand from her face like dead weight, leveling a blank stare.

"Why do you care?" She inquires, thumbing the rose stem in her hands. "Why are you here? Are you going to run and tell Mother? Earn some approval from her?" Summer's smirk falters into a sneer at the condescending tone.

"No. I'm not," she snips. She brushes some hair from her face and regains her grin. "And you owe me for it."

"Fine," Cloud agrees. Let Summer play her games. It doesn't matter anymore, nothing does. "I won't be gone long. We'll talk about it when I come back." Summer nods, satisfied with the acknowledgement of a debt. "C'mon, Lieutenant General." She shoves past Summer, who seems unbothered. Once in the hall, Ale lowers beside Cloud to whisper.

"You honestly don't think she'll say anything?" He asks.

"No," Cloud states confidently. "Summer's a jerk, but she's not a blatant liar, especially if she's getting something out of it." She looks Strong in the eyes. "You'll be fine, I promise." He’ll have to take her word for it.

In Cloud's room, Summer stands, arms folded firm, the smile wiped off her face. With any luck, this will be the final straw, and Blaze will finally see her daughter is unfit for the throne. It’s not like she wants it anyway. Summer lazily glances around Cloud's room, her grip around her arms tightening. It's a nice space, well-furnished and decorated. What a spoiled, selfish brat. Maybe she'll realize such out there, without a lady in waiting catering to her every will. Probably not. She’s got a very egocentric view of the world, that one. Summer shrugs, exiting the bedroom. She allows the door to slam behind her with a heavy boom on her way out.