“What?! C’mon, Rhenya, who even does that?! With a rustblood?!” You protest. Your friend is being slightly irrational; thankfully, she has a good friend like you to try to knock some sense into her thinkpan.

Your moirail has called you over to her hive to discuss some “important matters” with her, causing you to rush over impatiently. Although, this news really feels as though someone slapped you in the face with some sort of dead fish. This is ridiculous.

“Well, I mean, it’s easy to pity him! Being a rustblood, doesn’t make that any less appealing, you know.” You watch Rhenya play with her locks bashfully as she thinks about the lowblood in question.

You haven’t exactly met this alleged matesprit of hers (you keep forgetting, sometimes you think you make a pretty shitty moirail) and this is the first time she is telling you that the troll she pities is a lowblood. This wouldn’t normally bother you in particular, since you, yourself are technically a lowblood. You come pretty close to being a highblood, and you like the shade of your green blood.  If you were a shade bluer, you’d be a tealblood, just like your moirail. Since you’re so close to being a highblood, many have taken a liking to you (and your amazing personality, of course) so that you have been able to make connections in a lot of the right places. The fact that your friend is a slight shade bluer than you are made it easy to befriend her. (Ok, if you want to get nitpicky and bring Jadebloods in this calculation, she would technically be two shades bluer. You haven’t really seen any and most haven’t. They’re pretty rare and almost nonexistent, so you skip over them).

But honestly, just telling you now that her matesprit is a lowblood? Not only that but the lowest of the low! A redblood! A rustblood! You recall her first telling you about her flushcrush in the beginning, you just assumed they were a highblood, considering she is one. You thought you had asked before, but she’d change the subject swiftly and discreetly that you were completely led away without getting an answer.

You start to get frustrated. “They aren’t meant to be pitied, if anything hated and looked down upon! That would’ve been much more acceptable in this case, don’t you think, Rhenya? Why don’t you try being kismesises with him instead, huh?” You try to reason with her, flicking your tail in annoyance.

She gives you a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Oh… I couldn’t possibly! I’m sorry…”

You sigh and shake your head. She was always a bit softer than most of the tealbloods you knew.  Sometimes you think she’s hopeless.  “What would the others think? Being a matesprit with the lowest of the low.” You curl your lip. “It’s disgusting.”

She looks at you sharply upon hearing your last statement. You only hit nerves when necessary. You think now is the time.

“What do you think,” You say, making your voice slippery and sweet like nectar. “The others would think, if your matesprit was a rustblood? I mean, you’re a highblood but you’re pretty close to a lowblood, aren’t you? How do you think this relationship would make you look, as the lowest of the low of the highbloods?”

You break in your speech to observe her furrowed brow as she looks down upon her now clenched fists. You know she’d been teased and looked down on by the other highbloods, even as a grub. You’re hitting nerves all over the place as she told you about how hard it was and how no one would understand. Except you that is. You understand perfectly. You’re just trying to watch out for her, and this is what you tell her.

“Y-You’re just jealous!” She shouts at you. “You’re jealous of my relationship because you know deep down that you’re egotistical and annoying! Not only that, the others don’t really like you! They don’t think you’re their equal or even come close to it! You’re just a lowblood, Yseisa!”

Your moirail stops in shock at what she just said to you, mostly propaganda from anger although; there might be some truth to it. You frown, now furious, and get up.

“You know what, Rhenya? Even though I’m not a highblood, I still make a better one than you.” You spit at her. You take a nearby frame and throw it on the ground, shattering it, for good measure. She is not going to throw that in your face, not when she’s acting like this.

“I’m only trying to help you. But why should I bother? I can’t help someone who isn’t willing to accept it.” You sneer as you stomp toward the door before slamming it on your way out. “I hope you’ll indulge in that ridicule.”

You don’t look back to the scene as you can smell strong scents of anger, sadness, confusion, and frustration being emitted from her hive. After so willingly turning down the help that she clearly needs, whatever comes her way cannot be avoided.

~

You clench and unclench your fists while you try to calm yourself down. ‘Try’ being the keyword here. Since you aren’t home, you can’t use your usual method you use to calm yourself: felling trees. You have urges to fight trolls as you stomp through the streets, hoping that sights of the city or something might hope to calm you down. You slink into a café, ignoring interested glances you assume you’re receiving from your temper again and plop yourself down at a table with a huff.

After a while (and an order of preybeast meat) you start to simmer down. Picking your teeth, you suppose you could try to see things from her point of view. If she really pitied this rustblood, you suppose they could have a good relationship. You’re just trying to look after her reputation that she so flippantly neglects you tell yourself for the billionth time. Someone’s gotta look after her, if not her moirail than who? Certainly not that matesprit you aren’t quite satisfied with. He’s the one causing the problems here.

You sigh and think that you don’t really understand highbloods a lot of times. It seems as though they don’t give two shits that suddenly sprouted wings and ascended about this caste system, unless it’s convenient for them. Convenient being that they are entitled to things lowbloods aren’t, the color of their blood makes them special for some reason. You could get into the topic of discrimination, but you decide not to. You think you are a bit racist yourself, at times.

There is something that Rhenya spat at you that prevents you from truly calming down. It nags at you, just like how close you are but are not close enough to being a highblood nags at you. The fact that you will never be seen as an equal is always poking you in the side. Stabbing, clawing away at you. That’s why you focus on your hunting. No highblood nor lowblood can ever hope to best you at it.

You pick at your claws and think that frankly, you should be considered a highblood for your demeanor, not for your blood color. Some don’t deserve it while some do, like you. You deserve it. You have the attitude, the murderous instinct, the manipulative composure, and you think that you can be quite meticulous and cunning if need be, yet, you are still not a highblood. You think this isn’t fair, you also feel that because of your reasoning, you are actually superior to most trolls, regardless of blood color.

Sighing again, you slump in your chair and think that maybe you shouldn’t have thrown that stuff in her face like that. After you overstepped that boundary, a domino effect of overstepping boundaries was initiated and led to this mess. You get up, leaving payment for the meal and swallowing your pride for once; make your way back to Rhenya’s hive to go apologize.

~

               You arrive at her hive and see that the door has been left slightly ajar, and from within, you smell a sickening stench. There is definitely something wrong, you know it. You don’t want to acknowledge the reason for the smell but the only thing it could be is blood. You open the door further, being blasted in the face with more of the odor and the sight that beholds you makes you sick to your intestines. Teal blood paints the walls and the floors of the living room of Rhenya’s hive. You look up and find that there is actually some on the ceiling. You cannot lie to yourself about the owner of this blood, your nose never lies. You never forget someone’s smell. Never. It is none other than your moirail’s blood that is decorating the inside of her hive.

You rush inside wanting to look for her and end up slipping and falling in a pool of her blood, covering yourself in it. You get up shakily and take in your surroundings. You notice that most things are broken, ripped, generally messed up. You can tell there was some sort of struggle that went on here. You call out her name desperately as you search her hive, trying to at least find a body. You listen intently for some kind of response, but you don’t hear anything. You come up empty handed as well trying to find something and sprint from the hive as fast as possible to go look for help.

In your panic, you don’t notice that someone else is rushing towards the hive as well.

~

                You hurry to the market and find a few guards, hopefully some that you know.

“Rhenya,” You say, trying to catch your breath enough to explain. “B-Blood. Something happened to her!”

The name of the highblood has caught their attention. You recognize one guard as they examine you more closely. You note that his face isn’t exactly sympathetic.

He grabs his electronic communication device and reports into it. “A tealblood was killed late tonight. It seems as though she had been murdered by a greenblood.”

Your face falls as you listen to the report. “What?! No! I would never! I found her! I –”

You’re cut off as the guards put chains around your wrists and neck, arresting you. This couldn’t be happening. You’re innocent!

You try to tell them this as you thrash and scream, causing a commotion and some backup to be required to take you to court. “We were moirails!” You say, wanting for someone –anyone –to listnen.

Another guard comes and punches you in the abdomen, causing you to shut up and double over in pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the guard you know furrow his brow in, perhaps, worry? You don’t know anymore.

“Trolls have said that they had seen you fuming after you came from your moirail’s hive, as if you’d both had been in some kind of argument. Your temper is known for being short and hot, and you are often seen around bluebloods instead of those in your caste. There have been rumors of jealousy.” A guard lectures you, stopping to observe your expression. You cannot look at her because everything she has said has been true. You cannot deny it.

“It is logical,” She says as she continues. “That the alleged argument was a result of jealousy, causing you to go into a rage and kill the highblood.”

“I would never,” You snarl, defiantly looking dead into her eyes. “Hurt her!”

The guard frowns and orders the other guards to take you away for your trial.

~

                You curl up into the fetal position having tired yourself out from trying to escape the Transporter. The Holding Container is small and you feel that the walls are closing in and are going to crush you at any moment. You pleaded with the guards to let you trek to the Courthouse even in these heavy chains. Anything was better than this.

Your breathing is rapid and your blood pusher is going insane in your chest. The Transporter comes to an abrupt stop, causing you to slide forward into one of the Container’s walls, rattling your chains noisily. You have finally arrived at the Courthouse.

The guards drag you inside and set you up in another cage that hangs in the middle of the Courtroom, much to your despair. The Jury and Judges haven’t arrived yet, although it isn’t long before the huge doors swing open, causing a draft to blow throughout the room. You watch three trolls, all notably highbloods, two of which are sea dwellers, make their way to sit at the head of a table while a few others go to take their seats in the Jury box. You notice that there is no audience of outsiders to witness your conviction.

“Yseisa Seizir,” a heavy feminine voice causes you to will yourself not to jump in surprise. “You have been accused with the crime of killing a blueblood. How do you plead?”

“Innocent!” You yell from your cage.

The main Judge smirks at your response and the Sub Juggulator to her right mearly smiles, exposing all of his jagged, sharp teeth. This wouldn’t normally intimidate you –you have quite sharp teeth yourself. But when a Sub Juggulator smiles… You’d rather not think of all the horrors he wishes for you to partake in for his sick entertainment.

“How can you say that,” the main Judge inquires as she props up her face on her hand. Fucking sea dwellers. “When you’re simply lubricated in teal blood?”

You try to explain yourself again even though you know you won’t be given a fair trial because of the fact that you are a lowblood. You know highbloods will use any reason, true or not , to convict lowbloods and kill them in delight. You know you will not be given a lawyer to fight for your defense either. This wasn’t a real trial. It was a mock trial for shits and giggles. Nonetheless, you try to convince them while they play their game. “I found the hive covered in blood! I slipped and fell when I rushed inside to go look for her.”

“Excuses,” she coos. “Your temper and jealousy are famous. You have every reason to want to kill the victim.”

“But I wasn’t even there when she was killed!” you protest, shaking your cage in frustration.

“You were seen entering a café angrily, according to our tips. You could have killed her and then gone there to compose yourself before going back to the scene to make yourself look innocent but, we know what’s really going on here. You know and we know what happened.” The other Judge to the main Judge’s left elaborates their theory. Since it sounded plausible to them, they’ll definitely take the theory as truth. Anything to get you convicted.

“You set the hive to combust soon after you left as well, to hide the evidence.” The Judge to the left continues.

You blink. “There was a fire?” You had definitely not been aware of this. You feel a stab of sadness as you realize that all the memories you made together with Rhenya were in that hive, and now it was gone.

“Yes, that you set. We also cannot find a body, and it is presumed that you hid it.”

You pull at your hair. Alternia had the worst legal system! “If there was no body, how do you even know if she was killed?!”

“You have been referring to the victim as deceased this entire time. And, if the room was covered in as much blood as you are, it is evident that a murder took place.”

You know they will not listen and throw everything you say back at you in a way that makes you seem guilty. You frantically look for a highblood you know to help you escape your penalty. Your eyes meet with another blueblood you know –a cerulean blood. You look at her with pleading eyes and she looks back at the Judge, eyes flickering between both of you.

The main Judge calls the Jury. “Has the Jury reached a verdict?”

The cerulean blood you know stands and speaks for the majority. “After being presented with the evidence, the lowblood is found to be guilty of charges.”

All hope you had left is crushed as these words fall upon your ears. Shuddering, you think about the horrors the Sub Juggulators have prepared for you. You were guilty from the start, according to them. This trial was mostly for amusement and for them to say that they gave you a trial before you were executed. It’s not like anyone would care, either. If another lowblood goes missing, most trolls turn a blind eye. You grit your teeth and try not to cry. Will no one listen?!

“But,” the cerulean blood continues, with more to add. “The fact that there is no body and no concrete evidence to show for us to support our judgment, we think it would be best if she were not submitted to the punishment.”

The Judges frown and the Sub Juggulator slams his fist on the table. “Someone must be held responsible for this!” The main Judge exclaims. Your eyes snap back to the cerulean blood in surprise, holding your breath.

“Y-Yes, let me rephrase the suggestion: We should not submit the defendant to the traditional punishment,” Her eyes flicker to the Sub Juggulator, who is having a hard time keeping his temper. “Because even by our standards, it’s hard to prove that she’s guilty. She is found to be guilty because, as you said, someone has to take responsibility for this assault. We feel that it is more diplomatic to subject the defendant to a less harsh punishment than execution to preserve the image of the Court.”

The main Judge drums her fingers irritatedly on the desk while the Judge to her left sighs. The Sub Juggulator is busy snapping all of the writing utensils available on the table in half.

“If not execution then what do you suggest?” the main Judge growls.

There is silence for a moment before the cerulean blood answers.

“Exile.”

You let yourself exhale while your digestion sack churns. Exile? You suppose that’s better than death. You worry that the Judges will not accept the suggestion because technically, that’s all it was; a suggestion. No one dared deny the Judges of what they desired. Though, they were inclined to take what the Jury says into consideration.

Turning away from the rest of the trolls, the Judges contemplate the option with each other for a moment. The eventually stop conversing (bickering) to share their conclusion. “We accept your suggestion,” the main Judge reports with a pained expression. “The defendant is sentenced to exile in the mountains to the east, and is never allowed to return.”

~