just keep breathin

He tried to understand her. He really did. But it was more often that not that he found himself baffled by her all consuming anger. What she wanted form him could never be. She was fire and the world was frigid enough that his empty soul was tempted to touch it. To light himself and finish the corruption that had begun since the moment he had first laid eyes on her all those years ago. 

There had been other woman. Too many to count. Vidia would detest him even more if she knew just  how many. The nail in the coffin would surely be the disgust that would come if Vidia ever learned that he often closed his eyes so that he could imagine her in their place. “Where or who I was with last night, isn’t important.” He grinned, hiding behind the ire inducing facade so that he didn’t have to face the real problem. 

“The problem is, you, going on ahead without me.” He pointed out, hand sliding down her arm, until he was holding her hand in his. “It’s as if you hate me enough to want me dead.” A reality that was hidden behind humor, because endangering her was to ignore his duty to the throne. He knew she wouldn’t want to hear it, but he said it anyway, for he wasn’t above playing dirty to drench her anger.

“I’m here, right. I’ll always be here at you beck and call. So what more do you want from me?” An honest question and the closest he’d ever come to a confession of love and devotion. “I’m already your dog. You can’t have any more control over me.” Because he had already given her his soul and there was nothing more he could give. 

“if i wanted you dead you would have been a long time ago,” she sneered at him still fuming at how he didn’t seem to take her seriously especially when she was angry at him. did he not care? she knew he did. knew he cared too much and that was why he acted the way he did. they both understood each other too well, it was infuriating. infuriating how he got into her head, infuriating how no matter what she did she couldn’t get him out. did she infuriate him as much? sometimes she felt like nothing more than just his lease, the one he had to babysit and watch--the one he unwillingly protected because that was his job. his life depended on hers but only because of the wrath of her family. not from any personal interest of his own. why would anyone be stupid enough to love her?

still, she didn’t fling his hand off hers---something they were both acutely aware of even as they sparred verbally in this tension filled, one-sided argument. he always made it seem like she was the crazy one. as if he didn’t have a large amount of fault in her actions. she could hardly breathe with him that close, but it wouldn’t have been the first time. he’d familiarize himself with the shape of her lips, and forgotten it just as quickly. leaving her to wonder if she was just like the rest of the others he’d charmed into falling for him. and she hated him immensely for it as much as she loved it. there was right about it---forbidden in every way. what more did she want from him. the one thing she couldn’t have. the one thing she couldn’t utter. 

“Great.” There was relief in his voice, for Levy lived in constant fear that one day Soleil would have a change of heart and leave him for good. The way things were now, there was nothing he could give her, nothing he could promise. She deserved more than a night in an inn. She deserved to not feel shame for their mutual affection, but that was a hard concept to communicate when she was the one that had to walk out of his room in the clothes she’d worn the previous day. 

He grinned as she accepted his gift, fingers brushing a strand of hair that had come loose as she’d leaned down to smell the bouquet. He loved her, everything about her, and he didn’t understand how other’s couldn’t see how blindingly lovely she was. He was tainted by darkness, but when he was with her, he found that he didn’t feel as twisted. 

“I’ve already spoken with old Vina.” He confessed, expecting Soliel’s displeasure at him having already assumed she’d agree, but planning to beat her to the punch. “You know she’s like a tomb.” He reached for one of her hands, bringing her palm up to his lips, before sliding it onto his cheek. “So all you have to do is come with me.” Aro wouldn’t need him tonight and if he did, he would know where to send for him. “Leave the flowers. Grab what you need. I’ll meet you behind the stables in an hour.” He dropped her hand then, leaving her side in order to settle a few minor manners he’d left hanging. Only turning back to remind her that if she didn’t come he’d go looking for her. 

soleil’s face fell for a moment at the mention of the house mistress. vina was old indeed, and though she did have a soft spot for the summer fae, she ran a rather tight ship among the girls who lived and worked there. it wasn’t that soleil didn’t appreciate the measures taken to keep her out of trouble when it came to having the freedom to leave with levi, even if for an evening. but sometimes his measures often created worse situations for her to clean up and endure. she’d believed them all to be worth it, and if she ever had any hesitation or doubt, he’d quickly kiss them away with his whispers and promises against her skin. such was the effect her had on her, both wicked but so genuine she couldn’t believe they were ill-bidden. 

a sigh left her lips as the warmth of her palms cooled against his cheeks. “i wish you would have let me deal with her,” she murmured though already ready to give him anything he asked. and just ask quickly and tenderly as he had come, he turned from her to leave. curt instructions on where to be and what to bring, because even if he did love her she was nothing more than a subject. if she ever decided she wanted out from his grasp, soleil highly doubted her would allow it. and though he’d never shown her the unseelie side of himself, unless only to tease her, she knew what he was capable of. there was a reason the king trusted him so, and it wasn’t for his tenderness. 

the hour came and gone in little time, and she couldn’t help the flighty feeling of anticipation even as intrusive eyes watched her as if they had caught wind of her release from the night’s responsibilities. as she slipped out toward the stables, two very distinctly clear voices of fellow maids whispered among themselves. does she have no shame? i bet you she’s bewitched him! i bet you she’s just using him to get close to the king! who would look twice at someone like that? our kind have no business with a half-witted seelie like her! she’s not even pleasant to look at! 

To Lysander, carnal pleasures were just that, and nothing more. His touch, his lips, devote of real passion, instead relegated to mere human desire. This was how he’d bedded his wife, time and time again. This was how he approached her now, lips careful against hers, hands possessively caressing her lower back.

Colette wasn’t a woman any man in his right mind could complain about. Every inch of her was blindingly attractive, her scent sensual, her cries arousing. It wasn’t difficult at all to share her bed. And yet he always found himself with a semblance of regret. Her gaze was too knowing, her acceptance too easy. Lysander wondered if she hated him. It wouldn’t surprise him. 

Still he continued, fingers brushing over the silk of her gown, effortlessly pushing it over her shoulders, exposing her smooth skin and the soft swell of breasts. He left her lips only to tilt her head back and begin a careful study down her jaw, against the softness of her neck, and then further down. Hand dragging over her hips, up her stomach, until they reached her breast. Lips tempting against sensitive skin, thin fabric all that was between them. 

He’d forced his mind on automatic, movements instinctual as he tugged on the fabric of her nightgown. The dress rising up her legs as he collected the fabric within his hand. He wanted it off and he made it known with his actions, for he was a man of few words. Even in bed. 

it would have been too easy to let him have his way. she was used to being pliable, just the way she was taught. but in the years of being the only one in his bed Colette had learned a thing or two about the ways of her husband. just because their intimacy lacked emotion, didn’t mean she didn’t seek to know the things he did and why it was that he did them. Lysander’s conquest was typically a medium of great restraint and carnal want often spilling apart the closer they came to the end. She could tell the primal nature of who he was always won out in the end---not like that did any actual detriment to her in any way. she’d learn to accept her own pleasure in what often sounded like a formal act. there would be nothing formal about it if there was any sense of love involved. but those weren’t their cards and that wasn’t their story.

the first time they kissed, she remembered holding back tears. the first he’d undressed her, eyes taking in her body with a mixture of emotions. she didn’t know how to read them then, but now she knew what they meant. and since that night they’d always been masked with a distance meant to keep her, and anyone else who dared to come close, far away. his motions now, fluid and confident. experienced in how her body felt against his hands, like he’d learned every curve from her hips to the dip against her collar bone, the expanse of her breasts. in a  slight move, she found herself upon his lap, not wondering if he put her that or if she placed herself there of her own will. the tug against her dress, only confirming his authority surpassed his words. 

“I would hope so.” Mareiki responded, lips curling into a pretty smile, as she picked up her gathering basket. He’d looked different all those years ago, pale skin, deep wounds, but there was no mistaking him. He’d returned and that in itself was a wonder, because no one ever returned. For only those who needed them, and he didn’t look at all in need, were supposed to find her. “You’re not hurt, are you?” She asked, curiosity in her gaze, fingers reaching out to tentatively touch the stallions mussel. It’s harsh eyes not a deterrent for the fae. “And neither is he.” 

Mareiki had never been faced with such a situation. Eyes thoughtful as she tried to think of what her grandmother would have done. Considering that maybe Rhyz would know, but determining that he was to busy to bother with such things. He had a job to do and she had her’s. And that was to find out why this man, finely dressed and imposing presence, had come back to her.

“There’s tea at home.” Was all she said before turning around and beginning the short trek to the cottage, confident that he would follow. It only took a minute for her to come upon the tree, a touch of her finger reveling the appearance of an ancient door. “Join me when you’re done with the horse.”  She mumbled pushing the door open and stepping into the familiar living quarters. If her grandmother had still been around there would be embers in the heart to keep the old fae warm, and a hot kettle over it, but now that she was a lone, she found it hard to do such things regularly. 

The herbs she’d collected would serve as good medicine, but for the moment she put them aside, focusing on the task at hand. The kettle already over a roaring fire, when the door opened. 

It was surreal--and Aro stuttered a moment at the sight of her as she spoke again. Her voice ringing against his ear as proof this wasn’t some trick of the mind. Now the unseelie king had never been one for romantics or visible emotions as such,  he kept a tight-lipped line for a smile and dark brooding eyes fro a gaze. No one, sometimes not even Levi could guess his thoughts. He kept his mind guarded as most in his position would. But behind every word and decision was a calculated plan drawn long before the actual action took place. Everything he’s done has led him to find her, everything he’s done has been to find the woman who saved his life. 

And what did he expect? To bring her back to the palace and keep her prisoner. He wouldn’t deny the thought had once crossed his mind. But that was premature, and he was immature. He’d almost begun to believe she was merely a figment of his imagination, a story abandoned young ones like to adopt to sleep through the night. But no, she was here in the flesh---as beautiful as ever. He didn’t even know her name.

But he followed. Followed like a lost boy seeking refuge. Followed like a bewitched man with no will. He could only manage to shake his head in response to her questions, wondering still if she recognized him or if she was this pleasant with all visitors. The question was too specific, as if she did remember his condition the first and last time she had seen him. Did he look different in her eyes? More attractive? Surely, the arrogance inside him huffed. But he followed her toward her home as if he bore no royal blood and no responsibilities to lead a Kingdom.

Whatever magic she did hold captivated him when the door seemed to appear from thin-air. Veiled with whatever magic he was sure had saved him before, Aro assumed to himself. Without another word, he’d tied the stallion to the nearby tree, hesitated for a moment wondering if all of this was a good idea before stepping inside. He was a king for the love of the Elfen God’s, what did he have to fear?!

A wife wasn’t something that Lysander had ever romanticized. 

His mother had never been happy with her life. Marriage for her was a constraint and every touch, every cruel word from the king ate at her until she could no longer look at her own offspring with kindness. It had been an affliction hat had taken her at last, but Lysander knew she had been long dead within.

No woman deserved such a faith. And so he kept his distance from his own wife not realizing that he was doing his own share of harm. 

“I apologize for calling on you like this.” He truly regretted it, but once he’d given the order, he couldn’t just take it back, realizing that his every move might incite harmful gossip. “You look–” He turned away for a moment, pretending to be interested in a room that hadn’t changed at all since he’d last been it. “You look beautiful.” He was a man of few words, and his compliments rarely came from a sincere heart, instead a result of ingrained etiquette. Though this time he did meant it, Colette was a beautiful woman. Still, the fact that his visit had been incited by the search of carnal pleasure, made him feel like a hypocrite. 

These days everything he did everything he thought was followed by an onslaught of confusion and self loathing. It was no wonder that he sought such a primitive outlet to drown his fears and questions.

“Come.” He instructed, hands reaching for her and taking her into his arms. Fingers brushing soft strands of hair away from her face before he tilted her head backwards, looking down at her as if in search of an answer in those brown eyes. The moment soon lost as he turned his attention to her lips, claiming them against his. 

Lysander had never sought her out for anything other than than due diligence. The first year had been carefully scheduled visits advised by the royal physician to secure the legacy of their lineage. When the anniversary of their wedding had come and gone and no announcements of a child was declared, this was when Colette had started to worry. The stories of unfaithful kings and a harem of scheming concubines was something the Princess knew well. They were only there for a purpose, and if they couldn’t fulfill that purpose, another would take their place. 

She dreaded the day Lola would break the news to her, but that day hadn’t come yet. Instead, he would visit her in addition to the nights scheduled by the physicians, perhaps seeking a release in the frustrations that lie in his daily burdens as crown prince--- but he would only bed her. She always obliged, always yielded in a way only a dutiful wife could and was expected. It was never anything more than that---duty and responsibility. And that was an unspoken understanding between them. 

In the absence of such affection, Colette learned him. She followed closely to the affairs of the Court, and the little unnoticeable cues that no one else would have bothered to remember. She knew him down to the way his eyes would cast different emotions under trained, thin-lined lips--lips that told a completely different story when he sought hers out the way he did now. There was desperation, frustration---and something else. That, she couldn’t quite pinpoint yet, but the energy he possessed was different. Tensed.  

Levi watched her smile fade, and momentarily wondered if he truly brought her more pain than happiness. He loved her. He loved the way she shivered when he brushed his fingers over her wings. He loved the way she groggily smiled at him the next morning after a night together. He loved the sweetness born deep within her bones, that remained unmarred despite her eternal longing for home. 

He was aware of her pain, and that made him selfish. It would be so easy for him to grant her her wish. To send her back home and free her shackles. But then he’d loose her forever and he wasn’t yet ready to give up on her. Was starting to suspect he never would.

“You don’t seem to happy to see me.” He grinned at her, bringing the flowers out in hopes of gaining her interest. The bouquet consisted of a badly arranged (he’d been in a hurry when he asked for them) mix of beautiful flowers. Most were hard to come by, acquired in the vastlands and from the summer court. Definitely expensive. “Great as always. Though–” He cut himself short, not wanting to place his lord in a bad light by disclosing that his mood had been terrible on the way home. 

“I missed you.” He confessed instead, moving in on her until they were standing just a breath apart,  warning in his gaze that if she moved away he’d reach for her. He’d come to see her before returning to court, knowing he’d be plagued with matters that Aro would have refused to attend to, due to his terrible mood. He had no idea what was wrong with his master, but it was like this every time they returned from the vastlands. 

“All I could think about was coming to see you. So don’t reject me today.” He’d accept her rejection gracefully tomorrow, but not today. “There will be no court tonight.” Aro’s orders. “So how about dinner?”

in a perfect life there would only be levi for her, and there would only be her for levi. they would have the freedom to love outwardly and unashamed nor tied by the duties and rules of a life at court. the fae had always believed in their hierarchical rules, the systematic boundaries that kept those like levi and herself always an arms’ distance away, always pining and yearning for freedom. at least that’s how it felt for soleil. maybe he had more freedom to move about---he was respected, known. she was, well, nothing but a maid. those were not the cards for a future, let alone one that was happy. 

she’d never utter the things she’d heard said about her from the whispers of the other maids and servants, couldn’t bear the thought of putting that burden on him. but try as she might, those words always came back to haunt her in the middle of the night, lying wide awake curled up against his chest wondering if their love would ever surpass the secretive walls of a chosen inn or his own chambers. perhaps she’d cheapen herself in that way, and maybe what they said was true about her. hiding away in an inn near the woods was hardly a respectable way to be courted. she’d never be more than his whore and the word stung against her ears and heart while she looked up at him, frozen in his gaze and his presence because she understood the tone in his voice when he said not to reject him today. 

At this point there is little Marcel can do to quell her anger and so he just takes it. The curl of his lips barely noticeable to the untrained eye. He doesn’t find her tirade amusing as per say, but he does find the whole situation ironic. Ironic that she tries to hide her raging jealousy behind heated anger, ironic that he takes it just so that he doesn’t have to admit that she’s the reason he breathes. Ironic that apparent hatred can hide such earth shattering love.

“I was working.” He finally speaks up, tilting his head at her, as if asking if she still had breath to continue. “And you missed that shot because you haven’t trained enough.” He knew that it wasn’t her specialty as much as it was his, but he spoke those words anyway hoping to derail her from the topic of the previous night. 

The truth was that he had been in a brothel, seductive fingers running down his arms, and deep scents clinging to his clothes. But he hadn’t stayed long. Not past the time when his acquaintance had chosen to take a girl back into one of the rooms. He should have bathed, removed the other from his garments, saved himself that particular issue, but he’d had no time, not if he wanted to catch up with her. In her anger, Vidia was reckless, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if she came into harms way. If something ever happened to her death would swiftly come for him, and not at her father’s hand, but at his own. 

“But you know.” He added, finally standing up, his arms still raised. “I can help with that.” A playfulness in his gaze as he looked at her. A series of movements later (a swift step forward, taking her hand in his, reaching for the bow with the other) and he was in her space. Giving them both an excuse, allowing her to choose if he would allow him to touch her under such a stupid pretext. Wondering if she would allow him to ease her anger. 

“working?!” she whirled around, just in time to come face to face with him. the words such a lie she wanted nothing more than to release hell’s hounds on him. did he think she was stupid? vidia’s lips trembled in fury, eyes burning like wildfires but the moment he managed to hold onto her, she could feel herself lose. and it always happened like this. like clockwork, like he knew all the things she didn’t want to say, knew all the things she kept behind her lips that threatened to spill forward each and every time he was close enough to feel her breath against his skin. 

the rage wouldn’t subside though. not this time. she was angrier than usual. not because she didn’t know what he was capable of, but at least he’d made an effort all those other times to clean up---look as if he hadn’t gone bathing in cheap sheets of a brothel. she didn’t put it above him, had trained herself to expect the worst as the truth because there was no other alternative. it was easier to think of him as someone who had these kinds of habits, someone who sought pleasure over affection. anything was easier than accepting that he might actually care about her more than a protector and guard assigned to keep her safe. anything was easier than admitting how she felt about him, and what came with those feelings. 

The hut was but a door hidden within the space of an old Hawthorne tree, it’s magic undetectable to those who didn’t know what they were looking for. Mareiki had lived here since she was a child, and she did not really remember nor cared for any past home. It had only been 3 lunar cycles since her grandmother had passed away. The fae had been old, much too old, her contemporaries long ago returning to the earth, as she liked to triumphantly claim.Now she had joined them and Mareiki was left alone with only the occasional visit of Rhyz, her grandmother’s apprentice. 

She was used to the forests unique tune. To the morning chirps and the midnight howls. She trusted the forest, and yet the forest betrayed her when she failed to hear a visitor come upon her. The mount was dark and powerful, surprised gaze rising up it’s muscled limbs only to find herself staring at a face that rang blatantly familiar. 

“You.” She whispered, letting go of the basket she had been holding onto, where she’d already collected quite a few wild herbs and mushrooms. “What–” What was he doing here? But she forcefully stopped herself with a hand to her lips. This forest was free land and countless fae made their way through. Usually, she managed to remain hidden; she wondered where she’d failed today. 

he had a passion for hunting---and was good at it. that was the whisper around the kingdom of their king with a notorious habit for sleeping with many and loving none. the picture perfect villain in many ways. the model ruler of the unseelie kingdom of the autumn court. but the preference for disappearing for days at a time into the forest hadn’t started out as a flavor for hunting game and other things. no one would know, not even levi maybe (his most trusted advisor). but he’d been looking for her for as long as he could remember. searching for the one that saved his life. the one who he could never get out of his head, so he’d fill it with the images of others instead.

maybe the elf gods were playing tricks on him, in some way to punish him for his years of adultery and recklessness. but it could be that they were sending him a sign in light of this pending marriage to the princess of the spring court. it was an arrangement. no more, no less. unseelie had no business playing nice with the light faeries. but humans were becoming more of a threat to them than they were to each other. the king of the spring court had begun pushing for arrangements to be made, to move things along. and now aro was faced with his last remaining weeks as a free man. not like that would stop him from doing whatever in the fae world he wanted. no one controlled him. not even the gods. unless she was involved. 

Rhyz was aware of every single fae or human that crossed the magic borders, the later creating ripples that strummed inside his head in warning. He found her trapped in an old maze, an old contraption that Mother Ava had most likely constructed in her younger years. Despite her soul returning to the earth, her magic still hung on. 

Rhyz wondered if he’d ever be able to live up to her legacy, but for now all he could do was continue trying. 

“That’s the third time this week.” He called out, finally showing himself to the intruder. “How do you keep finding these portals anyway. There’s not a drop of fae blood in you.” He knew for a fact that she was completely human and it scared him to think that the barrier was weakening. 

He’d make sure she gave up before tossing her back into the human realm. Then he’d be free to reinforce the entrances she’d used. 

he’d gone missing. though the word missing would be used loosely considering lotte’s reputation for going days and weeks without checking in. this was different though---they needed him back at the camp to rally the others who were starting to become restless. and as competent as lyanna was in holding down the fort when lotte wasn’t around, she wasn’t him. and this was why she’d made her way into the fae woods trying to search for him. 

but the damn winged pests had their magic tricks and veils they loved to play on unwitting humans. that was something lyanna was not. though she was every bit human in the flesh--others would bed to differ she was no human at all. a sorceress to some, a mage to others. what she did know was that the arts came easy to her. it clung and yielding to her as if she was their master. but even this master couldn’t figure out a way around this portal. every time she had found one, it always led to the same place. over and over again. she really should have given up and gone home---to what though? an angry mob of underground rebels? no thanks. not without lotte in tow like she promised. 

Agatha had no intention of complying with this marriage. 

Her fiance was a scumbag and she… she was in love with somebody else.

Her eyes flickered to where Elias sat, near the fire, his concentration on some thing or another. He hadn’t looked at her all afternoon, and if she reached a little, she could claim he hadn’t looked at her in the past few weeks. 

In her case, just looking at him made her heart ache and made her all the more determined to not let him go, no matter how utterly selfish she was being. Weren’t fae supposed to be selfish, anyway? 

“I’m not goign to marry him.” She claimed, hoping he’d finally turn around and look at her. “I’m running away and you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t simply because he was the object of her affection, but that if she left him behind her father would surely blame him for her rash actions. 

There was nothing rash about this though. For there was no way she could go on with this marriage and hurt Elias any further. To sell herself and her firstborn in exchange for a chance of happiness was something she realized she wasn’t willing to do. 

Tension, despite knowing a day like this would come. Tension, because it was finally beginning to sink in. That this was their fate. Tensions, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn't even agree with her when she tried to bait him in running away with her. Elias had more duty than that. He was frustratingly guided by his moral responsibility. A druid’s words were binding, and that’s exactly what the promise had become: a binding curse.

He didn’t look at her--couldn’t-- because it would only remind him that she was never his to keep. Never his to love. And even if the words had never been uttered by either of them, they both understood. His loyalty to hers was more than just one of a servant, a guard and protector. And he wasn’t just the Princess he was assigned to watch over. They had become too inexplicably bound that the thought of being torn apart, but scum of the earth, had Elias tense. On edge. Refusing to acknowledge the ending, because if he didn’t talk about it or look at her, it meant it didn’t exist right? he wouldn’t have to let her go, right?

wrong.

The square was brimming with expectant onlookers. The mood festive, as if an execution would bring joy or cure the sorrows of their plebeian lives. He handed a few gold coins to a beggar, brushing past him with no further acknowledgement, his hood pulled tightly over his head. How the poor settled with the leftovers given to them by this corrupt government, he could not understand. The slums weren’t meant to be a home. Not even for those who, like him, had been born to such circumstances. No. Instead, he’d taken what he deemed to be rightfully his. Even if that meant sullying his hands and working to the tune of others. 

He was halfway down the square when he finally saw her. Frail body forced to rest on her knees on the platform. The executioner making a show of preparing himself for what was to be a show. Of course they’d keep her face covered. A face like hers wasn’t fit to mark a criminal. Her mere appearance would cause doubt in the crowd, and if the king wanted praise for the capture, it did not do any good to reveal her appearance. 

Zachariah moved ahead. Eyes watchful in an attempt to locate the snipers who would surely be watching the square. How easy this would be if there were other’s he could trust in this endeavor, but there was no one. Betrayal had come upon their family in the blink of an eye. Why their own guild would sell them out like this was a mystery, but what he had to do wasn’t.

sold out. never in her life would hani think she would be sold out. the security of her life as part of the guild, the respect and reverence her family held within the secret society was something she never thought would one day lead to their ruin. betrayal was a nasty thing, and when the cards were finally revealed, they were all each arrested and sent to the block with no fair trial. would kind of fairness would they expect? it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the secret dealings behind closed doors. the highest payer would get what they wanted. a bounty was worth more than loyalty she supposed. the worst part was that she feared for her parents more than she did for herself? hani had gotten word they had arrested her father and mother too. what about zachariah? nothing on whether if he had been rounded up like the rest of them. 

but none of that would matter soon enough. because today was the day. today was the day they gave brought her her last meal. the day they untied the knots in front of her hands and pulled them back behind her and slipped the executioners knot around her wrists. today she was given a white shift made of scratchy cotton. to absorb the blood once her head would roll right into the basket placed in from the the town square for all to see. disgraced, apparently. framed for treason. and there was no way to know what happened to her family.

she never feared death. not even as she was lead down the path toward the towering platform like a stage, like a performance for all to see. today she would reach the end of her life. if they expected her to beg for her life, hani would never give them the satisfaction. and as they read the charges on her head, and her family’s name there was a commotion. several bodies fell from the tops of nearby towers. snipers. and no sooner did the crowd begin to gasp did the sound of a flying arrow whiz past her head right between the ears of the executioner.