The Lecture

“I am ashamed of you,” Lycan Gray said. He didn’t snap or growl, he spoke coldly. Willow, sat in the hard wooden chair on Meena’s right, had her head lowered, staring at her hands resting on her knees. Meena resisted the urge to sigh again. She had only been in the cell - only! - for an hour and a half and it had become an irritating habit. She knew it would especially irritate Lycan. She wasn’t even in his charge but he seemed to exude authority over both of them. His stone face was the first thing she had seen once the guard dimmed his fireball - that was some magic power he had - and a silent Willow behind him. He had led them to a small study room - after, of course, being escorted blindfolded by the guards out of the prison compound and into the Citadel - where they had been ordered to sit. Then the irritable ageless werewolf had opened his mouth and started to scold them like the father of two misbehaving children. Well, please. She couldn’t help a little snort escaping. Unfortunately, Lycan had been speaking.

“… and you proceeded to attack two Eternal employees - is something funny, Miss Azura?”

She could hear the outrage in his voice, suppressed but still there. If he could, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to transform and rip her throat out. So she supposed it was her advantage that he couldn’t.

“Yes, actually, Mr Gray,” she said, in a voice just loud enough that he would have to lean closer to hear, and his companion by the door (a burly looking vampire warrior with tattooed biceps) could not. “I think it’s quite funny that you are trying to educate us in what’s wrong and right, telling us that our judgement of the situation was wrong, when your own judgement is so obviously clouded.”

She let her mouth twist into a rueful smile, as if she was apologising. She heard Willow’s sharp intake of breath from next to her but she didn’t raise her head. She could see the battle raging behind Lycan’s carefully composed face. The mask was cracking - she could see his fingers twitching, trying not to curl into fists, his eyes burning with suppressed rage.

“What is wrong and right,” he could barely spit through his clenched teeth, lips pale with rage, “is not up to you to decide. Who are you? You have no power here. None anywhere. You are nothing, Miss Azura. Your friend is nothing. Justice is decided by the Eternals, and if you cannot abide with it then perhaps you don’t belong in this world anymore. Perhaps what is best for you is a lifetime in the Citadel prison.”

The End

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