Work Text:
GAME OVER
PEKO AND SONIA HAVE BEEN FOUND GUILTY.
TIME FOR THE PUNISHMENT!
Sonia didn’t even have time to process it. How could one even process such a thing as to be condemned to execution. All she knew was that her stomach felt heavier than lead.
“Wait! I didn’t-“
Glossy red ribbons wrapped around her wrists. When she looked up, they were around Peko’s as well. The other girl kept her face stoic, sharp red eyes meeting Sonia’s.
The pale faces of their classmates watched as they were yanked away.
She was dragged quite roughly. Her arms and legs scraped the floor as she struggled. In her years as a princess, no one had really dared to treat her so poorly. It felt foreign.
When she was propped back up, her wrists ached. Ribbon was sharper than she had ever thought. Blood dripped down her arm.
It looked like they were on a stage.
No!
Sonia would recognize these regal lion head statues and rich velvet curtains anywhere. This wasn’t just any stage, it was the theatre in her home country. She had grown up seeing plays and operas in this theatre. Her parents had a reserved balcony at every showing.
Sonia’s arm was pulled up, posed delicately above her. She was a marionette. Ribbons that curled around her ankles guided one of her feet forward.
Across from her, Peko was posed similarly.
ROYAL BLADE BALLET
Their puppeteer decided it was action time. Sonia was tugged into a dance. It was traditional ballet, it reminded her of standing in the balcony watching the ballerinas as a child and wishing she was one of them. The plies and piques made her thighs sore.
Despite the music being calm and peaceful, Sonia felt anything but. It wasn’t just fear, though there was a lot of that too. There was a profound sadness of life lost.
She had met Peko. She had fallen in love. She had tried to free them.
How unfair, really, that they should be trapped in a killing game. They had futures.
The two danced, skirting each other across the stage.
If she had to die, she was glad it was next to Peko.
They were pulled towards each other and Sonia was grateful. The ribbon’s slack allowed her just enough autonomy to reach out to grasp Peko’s hand for a moment.
Her piercing crimson eyes stared into Sonia’s soul. Sonia wondered if it was now blackened.
“It has been my honor, Princess.”
Their strings were yanked jarringly as they were led into a distorted dance. Her limbs were twisted and jerked into odd positions, their ribbons becoming tangled.
Sonia felt like she was pulled impossibly, her tendons screaming for mercy against the tension.
Her arms cracked and crunched unnaturally, bent in positions they shouldn’t be. She could feel Peko’s agony as well, they were pressed against each other, heaving in breaths as they were mutilated beyond recognition.
Ribbon sliced flesh. There was some metaphor about the red string of fate in there, but Sonia didn’t have the capacity to come up with it. Not now. Not ever again.
When did Peko’s gore end and Sonia’s start? Their blood mixed together the same, pooling in a large puddle at their feet. Well, what was left of their feet. Sonia wasn’t sure anymore which were Peko’s and which were hers.
When they were motionless, the stage lights went out on their final performance. Sonia had one last thought.
At least now they were one.