Assassination of Alessaria Wolfheart

A Circlet in the Snow
She stood upon the precipice, eyes set out over a horizon laden with a myriad of hazy orange and purple. The wind swirled around her in a fierce cyclone that lifted oceans of silken ringlets to lash against her cheeks and collar bones. It was freezing at this altitude, though she bore no cape nor furs to warm porcelain flesh which had by now grown pink and wind burned. Though she shivered, she felt nothing.

Only the light knows how long she’d been standing there. Pale orbs deeply contrasted against the dark veil of lashes that framed them were transfixed upon the lands that had given her such pause in these long months. A delicate hand lowered to her belly, eyes finally parting the nothingness before her to meet her hand’s caress. A soft smile claimed petal lips as she thought what joy the baby would bring her, and pondered over how she would reveal the happy news to the Duke when the time was right. She was sure the child would look much like Kormed.

At the sudden pop and crackle of booted footfalls against heavy snowfall behind her, a widened gaze would soar over a slender shoulder in search of the source. Knitted brows would follow, the Duchess clearly puzzled by what she found there. She would turn away from the cliff’s edge as delicate hands attempted in vain to sweep the tresses that ebbed and swirled about her from her field of vision. The figure was eerily quiet, its very presence causing the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle as a pang of fear flooded her gut.

“Show yourself, stranger.” She blinked, eyes narrowing expectantly. The figure stood motionless before her, the hint of a dark smile the only thing visible beneath the black hood that shrouded its identity. With a clench of her jaw Alessaria’s eyes began to well with tears, one brave drop even departing on a perilous journey as it spilled forth to leave a silvery trail in its wake.

When word of the disappearance would reach the ears of the people, the tale of the moments to follow would be spun from educated assumption at best. There upon the cliff not a trace of the Duchess remained, save for the circlet of gold that had once sat so beautifully upon a delicate brow and a trail of blood that ended without a trace at the foot of the mountain path.

The Order of the King
Kormed stood upon his balcony, well aware that Alessaria hadn't a clue of his early arrival. He was expected to be in the courts of Strom, finishing the alliance between the two nations. Alessaria's hand in marriage had secured tranquility between the Stromsmen and the Alteraci -- the final clause of the Stromics in the Strahnbrad Compromise. The Seven Days' War hung heavily in the Wolf's heart. In addition, he had been presented with what he believed to be horrible, undeniably true rumors of Alessaria's betrayal. Turning on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back, features paling.

"A fine amount of coin will be yours...we'll punish Alessaria for her heinous betrayal. Slip a blade into her womb, and kill that abomination of a child within her. She may feign innocence, but I know her crimes. We'll hold her for ransom to her father, lest the Stromics kill her, or she's burned at the stake for her countless crimes -- a much kinder fate than what she ought to endure. Keep her alive; it's essential for this frivolous marriage to be of use yet. I've lost much more than anticipated as it is," Kormed hissed, quite sure the rumors he'd been told were truth incarnate.

Three men stood before their King, clad in black. They knew their task was a simple and easy one, and that transparency was what would make their plot obscure. If they were found, regardless if their King had commanded them to do so, they were well aware of their law-speaker's wrath, and how they'd suffer a grotesque fate before being proved innocent. Skincloaks of vibrant orange were tied around their mouthes, making them appear as if they were Syndicate agents themselves. They nodded their heads, and quickly stalked through the shadowy corridors of the Wolfheart estate, daggers drawn already, soon to confront Alessaria.

The King turned on his heels, sighing quietly, hands resting upon the banister of his estate's balcony in the cold Alterac night. His eyes were transfixed on Alessaria, awaiting for the secret deed to be carried out. He dared to watch, but his stomach churned; the pain the woman was soon to endure was even difficult for he who had ordered the blade. However distasteful, Kormed forced himself to watch, waiting for her reaction as the dagger plunged into her womb, killing the spawn that was within her -- the one she claimed was ''his. It's a lie, though,'' he thought to himself. Never venturing to consider that perhaps the information had been falsified in favor of a yet unmentioned party.

At the sudden pop and crackle of booted footfalls against heavy snowfall behind her, a widened gaze would soar over a slender shoulder in search of the source. Knitted brows would follow, the Duchess clearly puzzled by what she found there. She would turn away from the cliff’s edge as delicate hands attempted in vain to sweep the tresses that ebbed and swirled about her from her field of vision. The figure was eerily quiet, its very presence causing the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle as a pang of fear flooded her gut.

“Show yourself, stranger.” She blinked, eyes narrowing expectantly. The figure stood motionless before her, the hint of a dark smile through the creases of his skincloak and black hood being the only thing she saw. With a clench of her jaw Alessaria’s eyes began to well with tears, one brave drop even departing on a perilous journey as it spilled forth to leave a silvery trail in its wake.

Moments later, the man stepped before the Duchess, his dagger already drawn. "His Royal Majesty sends his regards," the husky voiced man snarled in a particularly cruel tone. Brief moments would pass before gritting his teeth, the murderer plunged his blade into her womb. The slice of flesh was heard, and Alessaria groaned in pain, and would have screamed, had it not been for one of the assassin's Syndicate-disguised compatriots muffling her mouth with his hand. She feebly bit upon his hand, but his gloves were of thick leather -- too thick to be bit through, much to Alessaria's horror.

"There goes your abomination," the ringleader growled, ripping his dagger from her stomach. Her eyes widened in horror, finally realizing what had occurred. Though parted lips made no sound, the furrow of a delicate brow and subsequent bewildered stare were enough to give even the hardened trio a moment's pause. There was no pretense in her confusion.

"Abomination?" she wheezed, genuinely unaware of what they meant by the statement. Moments later, her figure collapsed into the fresh snows of Alterac, and the blanket of white beneath her slowly transposed to red.

"K-Kormed d-did this..?" she whimpered, which was followed by a brutal kick to her jawline, bruising it nearly instantly and rendering her unconscious.

"Get a medic!" the offender harshly whispered.

<p style="font-weight:normal;">Kormed watched the medic go to work upon Alessaria -- for an eon, the medic worked to heal the woman, but the effort was in vain. She had bled out during the process, much to Wolfheart's horror. Was the brief protest seen in Alessaria's curious gaze enough to give him pause over what he'd done? Perhaps mystery would fall to legend before anyone ever knew.