A full kowtow. Palms flat in the blood, brow against the floor, the deepest submission an elven queen could offer.
"I do not desire to make light of my actions." Myrasyn spoke into the blood, and every trace of the bubbly queen who'd been bouncing in her chains was gone. "I am guilty, and I deserve the fate I would have received in these dungeons if not for you two."
Sera's hands stopped glowing.
This was the Queen.
The living legend whose name even low-born nobodies sang with utmost praise and admiration.
And she was pressing her face into dead people's blood on a dungeon floor for a low-noble girl like her.
"What are you... You're a sovereign-"
"A sovereign who made horrible decisions behind the excuse of the greater good." Myrasyn's kowtow deepened, her forehead grinding against the wet stone. "I sentenced innocent young girls like you to fates worse than death because of my greed."
"Greed? But you-"
