Burned and Built Anew

I stood before them – my conniving court, my corrupt father, my lover turned enemy.

“Executioner,” my father commanded. The man clad in black crept closer, dragging the heavy axe behind him. The scraping filled the silence and my chest rose and fell quickly as it edged closer, stopping behind me. 

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, pushing me down to my knees. 

My heart thundered in my ears as my eyes darted to my father, silently pleading, and a smirk pulled at his lips. I frantically looked to my former love, my protector, my everything, who now just stood by and watched as I was sentenced to death for a crime he knew I didn’t commit. He averted his gaze, clenching his jaw, and a choked gasp escaped my lips as my heart was torn from my chest. 

I couldn’t breathe as the executioner pushed me forward, situating my head on the block.

This is all my fault.

All my fault.

All my fault. 

The thought echoed in my mind. A painful realization that reverberated through every inch of my body until I was drowning in hurt and regret and betrayal.

This was all my fault for trusting them. My court with their hidden agendas. Him with his pretty words and broken promises.

A tear dripped to the ground just inches below my face as I closed my eyes with despair, surrendering, and the executioner raised the axe above me. 

I attempted to steady my breathing, waiting for the blade to decide which would be my last.

Feeling movement behind, I flinched, but the pain never came. I heard the squelch then, the distinct sound of metal sinking into flesh, and screams erupted from every corner of the room. 

Cautiously lifting my head, tears still soaking my cheeks, the heavy axe was planted firmly in my father’s chest, his eyes wide with shock. He slowly lowered his face to see the axe and when his gaze returned to me, his face was ashen as blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. 

My eyes darted to my former love, and he was frozen in shock, gaping at my father.

A firm hand gripped my arm, snapping me out of it. The executioner.

“We must go, princess. They are waiting for you.” 

He jerked me to my feet, and we sprinted to the door, evading the frenzied attempts to grab us. As we neared the exit, a large guard took his stance in the doorway and unsheathed his sword, an evil grin twisting his lips. 

I slowed, jerking against the executioner’s grip. He glanced back, noting my hesitation, and dipped his head to mine, meeting my eyes. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Pulling a dagger from his hip, he rushed the guard, spinning just out of reach as the man swung his sword. 

He slipped under the guard’s arm, turning and slicing the dagger along his back. The guard released a piercing howl, falling to one knee, and a tiny blossom of hope bloomed in my chest at our almost escape.

But just as my savior stepped up to finish him off, a hand wrapped around my throat from behind, choking off my breath. It swung me around, slamming my head into the wall. 

Stars danced in my vision as the face of my attacker came into view, holding me against the wall by my throat. 

My love. My enemy. 

He smirked at me, a vile grin, that broke what was left of me.

My heart ached, cracked, caved in, shattered. The pain. It swallowed me whole as I stared into his eyes and tears rolled down my cheeks. I clutched at my chest rather than my neck, anything to stop the overwhelming agony that was devouring me. 

“Did you really think you could escape your fate? Escape me?” He snarled, lowering his face to mine, baring his teeth. I cringed away and my eyes darted to the rest of the court. They were motionless, dumbstruck. My eyes blurred with tears as a dark fog of hopelessness settled over me and sunk into my bones. 

I resigned. For the second time. The last time. And as my vision tunneled, it locked on my slumped father, simultaneously showing my past and my future.

Anything to stop the hurt. My eyes slid closed, welcoming the darkness that loomed around me.

But just before I slid into it, something cold and hard pressed into my palm. Prying my eyes open, I was met with the executioner. 

He was standing directly behind my attacker, deathly silent, peering over his shoulder like a shadow. His gaze burned into me as he dipped his head and shoved the hilt of the bloody dagger into my hand. 

I held his gaze, and something shifted inside of me. Clicked. Burned and built anew. A renewed strength washed over me, enveloping me, piecing together the bloody bits of my soul and replacing the hurt with rage. 

A small smile tugged at my savior’s lips in recognition, and he stepped back as I gripped the dagger, turning my knuckles white with effort. 

I slowly shifted my gaze to the eyes of my attempted killer and his face fell slightly, faltering. Though my vision was blurring at the edges, I saw him clearly for the first time. 

Coward. Mindless, spineless coward. 

Hatred and disgust burned through me, and he took a half step back, his hand still locked around my throat. I reached up, placing the palm of my free hand on his cheek, and confusion creased between his eyebrows. 

He was so focused on my face, so surprised by my gentle touch, he didn’t even see the dagger coming as it lifted to his throat and sliced. I didn’t blink as his blood splattered me, needing to see the look on his face as he painted mine. The look of defeat that he had so badly craved to see from me.

He let go of my throat to grab at his own as he fell to his knees with a hard crack, his mouth slack and eyes wide with shock. I stepped closer, towering over him, as his blood dripped down my face, replacing the tears. 

“You will never rule here. You will die here instead, and you will be forgotten. Your name will be lost to history, as if it never existed at all. You will have never existed at all.”