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Night City

Nothing ever drowns out the sounds of the city. The clanging of armor, the jingle of gold and silver coins, the splintering of carriage wheels, and least of all, the crackle of fires forever out of reach for those who found themselves on the stone streets in the cool evening air.

“Mel! Wait for me!" the stomping of racing feet continued, even speeding up in defiance. Melisandre picked up her pace, not so much as to lose her companion, but just enough to tease her. She knew where they were heading, the hill at the edge of town, their spot for just the two of them. Her slender legs pushed her forward, and her lungs screamed, but Melisandre couldn't stop, she wouldn't.

“Mel, please, I can't run any longer!"

“We're almost there Mercy! We can't stop now! You don't want to miss it do you?" As the two of them reached the summit, the whole expanse of the city came into view, illuminated by the swirling pink and blue sky as the darkness of the night replaced the light of day. The two sat upon the hill, marveling at the beauty of the sight before them.

“Here comes our favorite part," Melisandre whispered into Mercy's ear as the girls found a comfortable spot to sit. With her words came the flickering of candles and the shining of lanterns coming to life, their warm glow streaming upon the cobblestone streets and ivy-clad buildings. The time had come for the city to show its true face in the dark.

As the last rays of sunlight bid farewell to the sky, the city transformed. Shadows danced with the lights, and the distant gentle hum intensified into the sounds of bustling streets. Melisandre and Mercy sat atop the hill, the cool breeze carrying whispers of anticipation.

“Breathtaking as always," Mercy let out, voice as soft as the grass and clover beneath their bare feet.

"Isn't it? I could never get tired of it." Melisandre murmured, her voice once again barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the wind. Mercy nodded; her eyes wide with wonder as the city below them came alive with a kaleidoscope of color. The air was filled with the scent of jasmine and spices, mingling with the distant strains of music drifting from taverns and market squares.

"It's like stepping into another world," Mercy breathed, her heart swelling with a sense of belonging she had not known in so long.

Together, they watched as the city embraced the night, each corner revealing hidden wonders and secrets known only to those who dared to wander its labyrinthine streets. Stars began to twinkle overhead, their light mingling with the glow of a thousand lanterns, painting the sky in shades of indigo and amethyst. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Melisandre and Mercy lost themselves in the magic of the moment. In that fleeting instant, they were no longer just two girls on a hillside, but adventurers in a world of endless possibility.

Melisandre stood up, taking in the wonder of the sight, “Seeing the world this way makes me feel bigger than it all, Mercy, like we're Queens of the world! Not even those pebbled-minded soldiers can touch us up here." Melisandre's voice trailed off at the last phrase. She thought of the countless times they'd been thrown from corners and robbed of the little coin they could scrape together and the sounds of clanking metal that meant trouble was near. She shook her head, determined not to let the memories unpleasant ruin the night.

“I want a nice, strong drink to kick this off. Let's head out."

The dockside tavern was rough around the edges, but that was what they loved about it. The salty tang of the harbor mixed with the yeasty scent of ale and the thick haze of tobacco smoke. Here, no one cared about their dirty feet or the grime on their clothes. No one asked questions.

The barkeep nodded at them as they entered, indifferent to their young age and ragged appearance. Mercy produced a few coins from her pocket, enough to buy a mug of the tavern's cheapest ale for each of them. They slipped into a shadowed corner, sipping the bitter brew and sharing whispers about the strange characters around them.

As they talked, a girl close to their age approached their table with a friendly, almost childlike smile. She had wide, curious eyes and introduced herself as Missy.

“Mind if I join you?" she asked, her tone light and cheerful. Melisandre and Mercy exchanged a glance, usually guarded around strangers, especially at the docks. But Missy seemed harmless, and her easy smile reminded them of the other street urchins they hung around with. So they nodded, and Missy took a seat, her enthusiasm infectious as she launched into tales of her life at sea.

It quickly became clear that Missy's stories were more fantasy than reality, as she spoke of sea monsters that ripped and tore through the ocean and the clashing swords and brawls of pirate battles, her eyes gleaming as she described daring escapes and buried treasure. Melisandre, an expert in spotting tall tales, could tell Missy was making most of it up. It didn't matter to them though. The girl's wild imagination and spirit of adventure were captivating, and the two friends found themselves laughing along, enjoying the distraction from their hard lives.

Missy eventually pushed her empty mug away and stretched, flashing a bright smile.

“Well, I should head to the next tavern, but, it was fun meeting you two."

“Same to you," Mercy replied warmly, and gave a nod of agreement.

They watched her leave, then drained the last of their ale. “Come on," Melisandre said, standing up and brushing the crumbs from her clothes. “Let's grab something for dinner before it gets too late. I'm not getting kicked out of another market stall for nothing.

The marketplace was quieter now, most of the stalls closed, but a few vendors remained, eager to sell off their wares before nightfall. The girls browsed, their eyes sharp, looking for the stands with the least fresh food—their best bet at haggling down prices.

As they slipped down a narrow alley to reach the last open stalls, shadows fell across their path, blocking their way. Melisandre looked up, her heart sinking as she saw a group of armed figures standing in their path, led by a tall, stern-faced Zangoose with piercing eyes and a cold, calculating expression.

“You two," the woman said, her voice sharp as a knife. “I hear you were speaking to a Buneary tonight—a girl named Missy. You wouldn't happen to know where she went, would you?" Melisandre's eyes narrowed. She had little love for authority, especially strangers who thought they could bully her into compliance.

“Never heard of her," she replied, her tone flat. Beside her, Mercy shifted uneasily, glancing between the woman and her guards. But her loyalty was unwavering; she wouldn't betray their new friend, even if she barely knew her. The woman sighed, shaking her head.

“Let's try this another way, then." With a nod to her underlings, she gave the order, and before the girls could react, they were seized, rough hands pinning their arms as sacks were pulled over their heads. They struggled, shouting and kicking, but it was no use. They were dragged away, their shouts echoing off the cold stone walls of the alleyway, until they finally fell silent.

When the bags were removed, they found themselves in a dimly lit dungeon, the air damp and thick with the scent of mold and stone. Melisandre lay on a hard, wooden table, her wrists and ankles bound with iron cuffs, her body restrained by metal bars across her chest and waist. Mercy was seated nearby, her feet locked in ankle stocks, unable to move.

The woman from the alley stood before them, watching them with cold detachment.

“My name is Zephyr," she said, her tone formal but dangerous. “I'm going to ask you again: Where is the Buneary girl?" Melisandre set her jaw; her dark eyes defiant.

“I told you; we don't know." Zephyr raised a brow, unimpressed. With a small, almost amused smile, she gave a signal, and her underlings approached, holding long, delicate feathers in their hands. Before they knew what was happening, the feathers began to glide over their bare soles, teasing and tormenting their sensitive skin. Melisandre gritted her teeth, trying to resist, but Mercy let out a yelp, followed by uncontrollable laughter as the soft touch of the feathers drove her into hysterics.

“Please—stop!" Mercy gasped between giggles, her body writhing in her bonds as the tickling intensified. She was more ticklish than she'd ever realized, and soon she was pleading, tears streaming down her cheeks. Zephyr only smiled. “I'll stop when you tell me what I want to know." Melisandre bit her lip, struggling to maintain her composure as her own laughter threatened to break free. She didn't want to betray Missy, but the sensation was unbearable, and she could feel her resolve weakening. At last, Mercy cracked. Through her laughter, she gasped, “She… she went to the other taverns… near the docks!"

Zephyr nodded, satisfied, and signaled for the tickling to stop. She turned to her underlings. “Take a group to the other dockside taverns. Bring the girl back if you find her."

Mercy and Melisandre slumped in relief as the guards left, leaving them alone in the dungeon, locked in a cell. Hours passed before the door creaked open again, and to their astonishment, Missy entered, her downy fur freshly combed and dressed in fine clothing. She was escorted by Zephyr, who looked far less severe than before.

“Mel! Mercy!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to them with a warm smile. “I'm so sorry you got caught up in all of this."

Melisandre blinked, recognizing her friend but confused by her transformation.

“Missy?"

“My full name is Myrcella," she explained, her voice soft with regret. “I'm the princess. I just… wanted to escape for a bit and have a normal night, away from all the guards and servants."

Mercy smiled in forgiveness, and even Melisandre found herself softening. “Well, next time, Princess, maybe warn us before running off on your little adventures," she said with a playful smirk.

Myrcella laughed, her eyes bright with gratitude. “Come with me. Let's share a meal and make up for everything."

As they shared a feast fit for royalty in the warmth of Myrcella's quarters, the girls enjoyed food and laughter, grateful for the unexpected turn of events. That night, Mercy and Melisandre slept in Myrcella's room, dreaming of possibilities as the city outside pulsed with life.