Chapter Text
Amy’s chain mail covered hand held her sword inside its sheath as she swiftly made her way down the long hallways that lasted forever. Every other step was a relative of a jog, appearing as if she were almost skipping down the corridors. Though, combating the happy facade that a skip carried, a deep frown sat across her lips while her eyebrows were furrowed together. Her lush forest eyes focused on the route before her as her armor clinked together as she rushed down the halls. Her quills that were pulled into a hairstyle that was half up-half down blew back out of her face and down to the center of her back with the quick pace she was making. Each hit of the metal sounded like a cannon going off as the atmosphere in the halls was stiff with silence and stale air. One could hear her coming from a few hallways away.
The golden sun that was just beginning to set outside casted bright spotlights and dark shadows. The halls were lined with a red carpet with intricate black and white designs. The walls were a white marble swirled with black granite in the mix, glimmering gold flecks in the sun. The ceiling was carved marble, full of designs and geometry. Candelabras sat on the wall and on tables as she passed by, the wicks unlit as darkness had not befallen the castle. The ceilings stretched upwards, almost quadruple the height of Amy, crystal chandeliers casting rainbows across the walls and flooring. No other life roamed the halls; just outside the large windows and huge glass doors was the stretched balcony where the only sign of life that lingered were birds. Though, as the sun was just beginning to set, birds had no interest in basking in the sun on the balcony.
Just beyond the balcony was a huge drop. Hundreds of feet away from that sat a large stone wall, intricate in design and placing a walkway along the top of it. A few bodies wandered that walkway, but past that was the kingdom: the distance looked greater than it was as the kingdom stretched across multiple valleys and trade routes. The hills rolled with a deep green while patches of forests settled along the outskirts. Just past the forests were towering mountains, treacherous in nature. It was as if the mountains contained the village, a wall surrounding all that was precious in the land. It was a safe haven, an eternal paradise in a world full of pain and suffering. It brought comfort with the thought that all that was known was protected by giants hidden in stone.
Amy turned another corner, picking up her pace into a consistent jog. Her heart thudded in her chest as she attempted to calm her breathing. The daunting challenge before her clenched her stomach in worry and anticipation, but hope surged through her veins. Her hand against the hilt of her sword shook slightly, hoping that the jog would release some of the jitters that plagued her body.
Finally, one of the halls broke into a throne chamber—not an explosively large one, but a lavish, tucked away one that spoke of wealth and status. The walls had turned into black marble, studded with shining diamonds and bright crystals along the trims. Six pillars holding the ceiling stood parallel from each other on either side of the room. The center between the pillars ran a carpet run, black with red trim, contrasting against the white flooring that gave a muffled clack beneath Amy’s heels. At one end of the room was the door Amy was entering through and the other side sat two thrones, both empty: the large one was black with red silk padding while the small one was plain white, no decor to go with it. The pair spoke of only one inhabitant that was nowhere to be seen.
Close to the two thrones stood two individuals at attention in the same armor that Amy wore: a tight fitting black long sleeve with silver shoulder and chest armor pieces that were shiny, brand new-like. A sword sat at their hips, too, in a holster. Chain mail covered their hips over the strap that held the sword’s holster in place. On their thighs were the same metal that sat on their shoulders and chests, dark red pants sitting below it with pockets along the sides and the bottoms tucked into the shoes. The shoes were a midnight black boot with a steel toe, big in nature, but protective. Their backs were facing Amy, but one was covered in royal blue quills with the other in glimmering silver.
Amy ran up beside them and fell into attention next to the blue hedgehog, the silver one on the opposite side of him. She smoothed her pulled back quills a bit and adjusted the sheer white handkerchief that helped keep the flyaways at bay as a headband. She quickly got to her attention stance, hand on her sword while the other down tight by her side.
“Really? Late again?”
“I was helping the duchess,” Amy scoffed, rolling her eyes slightly. The blue hedgehog’s voice had a hint of annoyance in it. “She… needed help studying.”
“Be honest: you were probably trying to help her pick out an outfit for her evening supper tonight, right?”
“Sonic, leave Amy be,” the silver hedgehog piped in on the quiet conversation that echoed through the large hall, no matter the voice volume used. “She’s only completing the tasks that are asked of her. You don’t need to criticize her duties.”
Amy saw Sonic’s head slightly snap in the direction of the silver hedgehog. “And be late to this, Silver? The most important evening of our entire lives?”
“I got here before Knuckles, so I’m on time,” Amy hummed, taking in quiet deep breaths to calm her heart down.
An incoherent grumble came from Sonic. Amy sighed to herself as she tried to shake off his words. If she got there before the commander, she was not late. And as Silver had said, she was fulfilling her duties. Amy chalked it up to nerves from what was to come, which she was fighting herself. While Amy tried to distract herself when nervous, Sonic snapped at others while Silver fawned. Once this passed, everything would be fine again.
The sound of armor clicked behind them as someone entered the room. The tension between the three knights halted the bickering back and forth, all of their backs straightening out as much as possible. Amy locked her eyes with the thrones before her, specifically with the black throne as she stood directly in front of it. Her mind wandered to imagine someone sitting in that seat, a face to put to the head of the royal line; yet, there was nothing. She wondered if the king looked like Duchess Cream, but something about that felt incorrect. Rumors ran rampant of who the king could possibly be, but not a soul knew what he looked like—except for those who were the closest to him.
Who had entered the hall rounded before the three knights: he was a bright crimson echidna, wearing similar attire to the three knights, but his was a bit more stylized. No black shirt carried on him nor a chest plate to reveal a white patch that resembled a crescent moon on its side, but he wore shoulder armor plates. He wore the same thigh armor pieces and pants as the knights, but the color of the pants was black with a gold trim. His boots were the same while instead of a sword sitting on his hip, he carried a secured mace with a head that was close to the shape of a diamond. Amy envied the mace every time she saw it, but it was not yet part of her job description.
“Good, you’re all here,” Knuckles said to the group. He walked to the few stairs that led to the thrones, stopping on the bottom stair and staring at the three knights. “I would expect nothing less of you.”
The shadows in the room were shifting as the light outside was beginning to fade. The sun that once lit both thrones shifted to spotlight the white vacant throne. Despite its lame decor, it was ethereal within the sun: it begged for someone to take it, to call it a home. It had not seen a partner in an eternity, yearning for anyone to give it attention. Amy’s eyes glanced at it for a moment, a longing feeling in her stomach before turning back to look dead ahead at the black throne.
“This side of the castle has vacated until early dawn—which means you are the only ones with a low security clearance who have access for the time being,” Knuckles continued, watching each of the knights’ faces as they remained frozen. “The rest have a high security clearance—which are few to none. You understand that you have the highest respect currently?”
“Yes sir!” all the knights said in unison. Amy’s heart skipped a beat.
“This evening will be simple: I will escort you three to the place where we will be meeting His Majesty. Each of you will have an individual meeting with him. You shall remain silent until he asks you a question directly. If a comment is made, do not speak. If he asks something rhetorical, do not speak. Only answer the direct questions, nothing else. After all three interviews have been conducted, he will appoint each of you to a spot he sees would fit you best. This is to not be argued about. Any questions?”
“Sir, do we know what positions are available?” Sonic asked, his voice flat and assertive. He remained looking forward, not looking directly at Knuckles.
“No,” Knuckles shook his head. “His Majesty makes those calls himself, not us. You could be put as a guard at a door, a security checkpoint, an escort, whatever the king decides. Any more questions?”
Silence fell over the knights. Knuckles nodded his head and stepped down off the step. He approached the knights and looked at each one. “I’m proud to call each one of you part of the next Royal Guard. You’ve worked your ass off to get here. Whatever position you are assigned, remember you are still part of the Royal Guard, no matter how difficult, easy, boring, or anxiety-inducing it is, understand? You are now under oath. There is no backing out now. This is your life: solitude, humility, and unpredictability.”
“Yes sir!” the knights barked again.
“Come, let’s go greet his Majesty.” Knuckles began to walk around the knights and towards the entrance of the throne hall. Once Knuckles had passed them, the knights turned on their heels and marched after Knuckles, silent with their armor clapping in harmony.
The sun had almost set at that point. The halls were lit with the candles, leading an ominous trail to the group’s destination. All three knights walked side by side as Knuckles led the group. The silence was stiff and suffocating, each knight running with their own thoughts.
Amy’s heart raced as she attempted to calculate what the night had in store for her, but thinking about that made her even more anxious. Yet, if she focused on the moments during the day, sadness would plague her. Her fate had been sealed from the very beginning, no matter where her knighthood led her.
Knuckles led the group deeper and deeper into the castle nowhere that Amy had explored before, even during her time with Duchess Cream. It took everything in her power to not gawk as they walked, the atmosphere shifting in the decor. The mood was tapering from the classic noble decor that the rest of the castle had to a dark, almost sinister appearance. The walls that were once a white marble slowly grew darker, dipping into deep shades of gray and slowly into black. The walls that were usually bare of paintings and decor began to hold pictures of portraits of unknown people as well as moody paintings: some of classic fruit, others of a darker theme of blood across snow or a freshly dead animal laying in a stormy field.
The shift in the angst-like decor turned the atmosphere into something heavy, unidentifiable. It was as if Amy had been teleported to another dimension. Amy peered at the two other knights, who were looking ahead but their faces were also growing wary. It was across the group that it was known that something was wrong, that something was going on beneath their noses; Amy already knew something was amiss with the king as his face had never been revealed before, but now it truly seemed as if he was a monster locked up in a tower.
The group approached a door at the end of the hall they turned down deep in the castle. This door was no wooden door: it stretched all the way to the ceiling, built out of pure metal and bolts. The finish was covered in dust, grime smearing parts across the door. On the right door was a deep stain that dripped down the center and down the metal: it was dark, almost like a runny paste had been lathered there. At the origin of where it began was a faint outline of a hand, fingers splayed out like it had smacked the door. It slowly dawned on Amy that what was possibly there was blood: dried and caked there from whatever incident occurred.
Anxiety began to consume Amy, starting in her stomach and quivering her hands.
Knuckles stopped at the door and did a little rap with a small beat, as if it were a code to tell someone he was there. A moment passed by and then the door swung open, revealing a knight covered in head to toe armor, glaring at the group through their helmet.
“His Majesty is expecting new Royal Guard members to interview,” Knuckles stated plainly without looking back at the group of bewildered knights.
The guard stared at the group for a moment before stepping to the side without a word. Knuckles walked past without any more questions or comments, which the three knights followed closely behind. Amy kept her eyes forward and away from anything that she could be scolded for staring at: there was a low probability that no one would snap at her, but something told her that she should not be a witness to any of this.
Beyond the door, the atmosphere changed completely. The air was full of heaviness, solitude, angst. The walls and floors were completely black, like a void. The ceiling hung a velvety red surface above with chandeliers casting ghostly shadows across the area. A soft white carpet runner was what led you down the hall. The smell was not open and soft like the rest of the castle. It was choked with the stench of firewood and intoxicating floral scents—not the floral scents that are unbearably sweet: the stench of rich flowers, specifically roses. Paintings hung along the wall, but they were darker and held different faces. Glossy, intricately-made dark wood tables lined the hall, vases made of pure crystals on each one with a bouquet of red roses, a single white one plopped in the center of each.
Amy tried to keep up behind Knuckles with the rest of the knights, but it was now clearly visible that each knight was shaken up about what dimension they had been teleported to. There was no time for Amy to even take a good look at anything, but she caught sight of a painting beside her: a portrait of someone. Any of their features were difficult to make out due how dark the painting was, but Amy thought she briefly saw what appeared to be quills of a hedgehog, but black, fading in with the silhouette.
Knuckles pulled the group to the right side of the hall, halting their journey. As they were stopped, Amy stood a little closer to Sonic and Silver than she usually would, finding comfort in their presence compared to the sinister atmosphere of whatever part of the castle they found themselves in. All knights stood at attention, though, each putting on as much of a brave, stoic face as they possibly could. Amy watched Knuckles’s face as he turned to the group: discomfort was also faintly buried in his face, his features shrouded with new types of shadows Amy had never witnessed before.
“On the other side of this door,” Knuckles began in a very low tone, nodding towards the dark wooden door beside them, “His Majesty sits and waits for us. Who wishes to go first?”
Amy was hesitant to answer with the anxiety building in her stomach, but before she could answer, Sonic piped in. “I will greet His Majesty.”
Tension filled the air as Sonic took a step towards the door, lifted up a hand, and knocked. A breath was held until a low voice behind the door just barely said, “Come in.” Sonic opened the door and slipped into the room, the door closing behind him automatically.
Amy stood there with Silver and Knuckles silently. One shaky hand grabbed the hilt of her sword as Amy reached the other hand up and smoothed her quills on the back of her head. Beside her, Silver appeared even more nervous than Amy, lost deep in his thoughts. Amy bit her tongue to keep from asking Silver if he was alright, forcing to focus on herself for the time being. Everything in her wanted to make sure that he was okay, but she came to learn that there was a time and place for comfort and care.
Low mumbles of voices echoed behind the door. Amy tried to imagine what the king looked like. With all the decor of the hidden wing of the castle, the highest imaginative suspicion was that he was a monster of some kind. Horrors danced with the images: nails dripping with blood, tattered clothing, a tall stature that towered over everyone in the wing. The images caused Amy’s anxiety to spike, but her imagination ran wild. With no one to discuss her thoughts and emotions to, Amy was left to her own devices. Her hand tightened against the hilt of her sword, her once shining eyes grown dull and dark. Her shoulders were tight, keeping her hunched in on herself slightly.
Grabbing a glance over at Knuckles, Amy spotted that Knuckles was also extremely uncomfortable. One of his hands held tight to the mace on his side just as Amy’s hand held her sword. His deep purple eyes were nearly black in the dark hall. Looking at him, Knuckles appeared as if he was standing in a fog, his body hazy in Amy’s line of sight. It was as if the stench of roses and firewood overtook the air, not only choking out Amy’s throat, but also veiling her eyes.
Silver was in the same haze that Knuckles was in when Amy peeked over to the hedgehog. Though, he showed his anxiety clearer than the rest of them. He rocked back and forth on his heels slightly, keeping his eyes swiveling across the hall on high alert. His silver quills wore an ashy gray in the dark hall, but his yellow eyes were startling. Guilt ate inside Amy as she watched Silver. She silently took a small step his way, bumping him with her shoulder. He looked up to her and Amy exchanged a small smile as reassurance. A meek smile was returned from Silver, his body loosening the slightest bit with Amy’s presence beside him.
Just as quickly as Sonic had disappeared into the room, he slipped back out. Amy and Silver locked on to him, studying his face. His countenance appeared almost confused, trying to decipher what he had just witnessed. Amy’s voice begged to speak, to ask questions, but she kept herself quiet. Sonic kept his eyes to the ground and locked his frame back to be beside Amy—but he was not mentally present.
Knuckles cleared his throat. “Rose, would you care to go next?”
Amy knew that what Knuckles gave her was not a request, but an order. She nodded silently and approached the door. She raised her fist and tapped a couple of times, keeping her lips pursed and her face straight. Again, just as what had happened with Sonic, another quiet “Come in” echoed in the room.
A silent deep breath sucked into Amy’s lungs as she opened the door and slid inside. She closed the heavy, solid wood door behind her, the gold knob clicking as the door closed back into its place. It took everything in Amy to look up and face whatever monster the king was before her, clenching her jaw to keep it from chattering with anxiety.
A long table stood before her, and at the end of it was a dark figure. Bright ruby eyes glared at her from the end of the table, nearly pinning her there. “Amy Rose: I’ve heard much about you.”