Cecil stood beside the king, occasionally stealing glances at him. He could see that deranged, spiteful look in his eyes. He truly didn't understand how someone could take such clear enjoyment in the death of others. He turned his attention back to the execution stand. Each whoosing of the axe coming down made him flinch internally when it was followed by a sick slicing sound. Six months ago, a rebellion had began and those found conspiring in the rebellion were being executed, along with a few stragglers who committed crimes and 'sins', according to the king.

Cecil snapped out of his train of thought when he saw the king standing up and walking away into the castle. He followed behind, eating up the distance two strides at a time since the king always moved rather quickly. He stammered out, but kept his voice calm and concise. "My Lord, where are you going?" When he received no response, he frowned and eventually came up beside him, hesitantly placing a hand onto his shoulder.

"My Lord, maybe it's time we return to you bedchambers. I think—I believe—you've seen enough bloodshed for today." He gently gripped the king's shoulder, he didn't leave before and he wasn't going to leave now. Each time the king was denied meals, Cecil would steal for him. Each time the king had cried about their whip marks burning, Cecil would steal plant stalks of aloe vera. Now all of that was gone, the king was...someone else completely. He'd expected this, honestly. But never on this level. He was the only one that was allowed to speak to the king like this, much less touch him. Anyone else would have been killed if not immediately.