Walk me down the aisle
Who! he shouted. Celeste grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in, kissing him. He pulled away, breaking the kiss, and the music immediately came up, the crowd standing and applauding. Celeste turned, taking his arm, but he grabbed her, turning her back. Who was behind the mask, Celeste? Who? Who? She glared at him, her teeth clenching, her lip curling, the crowd still cheering, the music high in their ears. Who do you think, you fool? she spat. Who have you been running about saving all over the countryside? Who have you been spending your evenings with? Who have you been pining for whilst you were with me? And who, this very moment, hangs from the gallows?
Yes! Your stable girl is dead, dead, dead, hung as your vows escaped your lips! Court's eyes spread far open, releasing Celeste's arms, stepping back. No. Yes! You are my husband now, King Cross, and you will accept the fate with glee, for your peasant love is beyond you now. You killed her! he shouted, grabbing her again. You killed her! No, I did not kill her, she whispered, her lips tight. We killed her together. She hung from the rope on my command and with your words of condemnation ringing in her ears! How could you do this? he whispered in horror. How? Why? I loved you. You loved her, she corrected, but I have never loved you. Now, come along, King Cross.
We must dance at our reception and make merry with our guests. The gravedigger has his own tasks to attend to. Court fell to his knees there on the altar, the clapping crowd quieting in confusion, the music repeating without pause. And then the lighting flashed, the thunder rolled, and the great stain glass window shattered. Vrine was laughing as she watched the gallows in the mirror. Are you watching, servant? Perhaps I'll keep you alive long enough to witness your prince's death too. Would you like that, to die after him? Maybe I'll even keep you alive as my pet? I could turn you into a frog. Would that be better, to be a frog? She turned around, her eyes widening.
Wellington was struggling, drawing the sword from his side, inching it out of its scabbard, the blade rubbing up against the vines. And then they snapped. Wellington was on his feet instantly, pulling the sword out of the hilt, yelling as he charged. Vrine grabbed a vile from the shelf, smashing it on the ground. It sent a smoke plume into his eyes, blinding him. Wellington withdrew, coughing and squinting, the room hazy, his eyes burning. Where are you, witch? he shouted. The prince's valet has a trick or two up his sleeve, Vrine said. Wellington spun around, trying to follow the voice. A blind frog, she said, laughing. Yes, I think I will. He spun back around. The walls were echoing her voice. Where was she? He closed his eyes to focus. Then he heard it, the sound of glass vials clinking together. He lunged forward, cleaving. He felt the blade hit flesh and Vrine shrieked. My hand! You've taken my hand!
Yes! Your stable girl is dead, dead, dead, hung as your vows escaped your lips! Court's eyes spread far open, releasing Celeste's arms, stepping back. No. Yes! You are my husband now, King Cross, and you will accept the fate with glee, for your peasant love is beyond you now. You killed her! he shouted, grabbing her again. You killed her! No, I did not kill her, she whispered, her lips tight. We killed her together. She hung from the rope on my command and with your words of condemnation ringing in her ears! How could you do this? he whispered in horror. How? Why? I loved you. You loved her, she corrected, but I have never loved you. Now, come along, King Cross.
We must dance at our reception and make merry with our guests. The gravedigger has his own tasks to attend to. Court fell to his knees there on the altar, the clapping crowd quieting in confusion, the music repeating without pause. And then the lighting flashed, the thunder rolled, and the great stain glass window shattered. Vrine was laughing as she watched the gallows in the mirror. Are you watching, servant? Perhaps I'll keep you alive long enough to witness your prince's death too. Would you like that, to die after him? Maybe I'll even keep you alive as my pet? I could turn you into a frog. Would that be better, to be a frog? She turned around, her eyes widening.
Wellington was struggling, drawing the sword from his side, inching it out of its scabbard, the blade rubbing up against the vines. And then they snapped. Wellington was on his feet instantly, pulling the sword out of the hilt, yelling as he charged. Vrine grabbed a vile from the shelf, smashing it on the ground. It sent a smoke plume into his eyes, blinding him. Wellington withdrew, coughing and squinting, the room hazy, his eyes burning. Where are you, witch? he shouted. The prince's valet has a trick or two up his sleeve, Vrine said. Wellington spun around, trying to follow the voice. A blind frog, she said, laughing. Yes, I think I will. He spun back around. The walls were echoing her voice. Where was she? He closed his eyes to focus. Then he heard it, the sound of glass vials clinking together. He lunged forward, cleaving. He felt the blade hit flesh and Vrine shrieked. My hand! You've taken my hand!
Gardens home
Yes. Had a run in with a dragon, it sounds like.
Heh. I got teeth sharper than any dragon.
Have at it then, the soldier said. He and his companion moved off, the sounds growing louder at each cell they passed.
Sienna looked up at the large man, trembling. Please, sir, I His whip was off his back and in the air so quickly she did not even see it uncoil, nor see it snap back, but she did feel it. She shrieked as it ripped into her back, cutting through her dress like butter. She fell on her chest, sobbing out gardening in pain.
Rule one, you don't talk. I talk. This is my jail. If I want you to say something, I'll tell you what to say.
He grabbed her by her short, golden hair. She cried out as he dragged her across the dungeon, ramming her neck down into a pillory stock, pulling up her hands and shoving her wrists into the shackles, locking it closed. She was not tall enough for it, the tips of her toes struggling to keep her upright.
