My loves are suffering. Dodging and running, they are tired. Yet they keep fighting. This is not the path that was chosen. We hear the others who are left calling. I want to save them and so do my loves, we can only protect ourselves.
The rebels are free, but they are not lost. The messenger comes on behalf of the princess begging and pleading. My loves say no and stand their ground. “We are the outcast. There is no longer a place for us in the castle.”
Hysterics are made with empty promises; my loves are hearing none of it. “We are forsaken.”
Audience with the princess does not fare well; she says, “This is beyond my control”. The messenger keeps calling. Trying to fix what can never be fixed. The princess is busy with musing and such; no longer seeing to such trivial matters.
Now it is time for me to rise. You asked for blood, if i remember correctly. This is where I sharpen my sword.
Leather and words are weapons of choice. The messenger is scared. I have held my silence and watched the lies. This is where it all dies slowly. It is time to end this. Not swiftly of course, for what is a tale with a brief ending of bloodshed? “Off with the head and bring us the heart!”
Now now my loves is that what you want? Head and heart of the messenger? One I give freely the other is mine, make your choice quickly. We all want trophies and I want mine. Perhaps seeking joy in the suffering will be my winnings; to you my loves go the head and heart. Payment rendered for the betrayal, leaving the princess bloodied and broken.
The princess notices that things have changed as she walks the lonely halls of her castle. The old courtiers have left, taking with them their hearts. One lone warrior stands to the right as she turns to survey the damage.
The place she gifted the messenger is now empty and bloody; the messenger at my feet, heart in my hand. The head rolls to a stop at her Highness. She falls to her knees. “What have you done?”
Grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, fear is wavering in those lovely brown eyes. Leaning in close with a brush of the lips, “I still have your secret.”