꧁༺ 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓭 ༻꧂

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 28

Harlynn's shackles clacked and clanked together as the guards holding his arms dragged him through the halls of the arena. The guillotine was set up - he watched in vain as it was put on the large platform brought out only for such occasions. The old man wondered how you were, if you missed him. You probably didn't. In fact, you probably hated him. Who wouldn't?

The conversation shared between the guards was somewhat pitiful. He knew they were raised highly by egotistical fucks, but he didn't realise how bad it would make them. The chat went something along the lines of 'what's your bet I'm going to pull a woman and get a sneak of that pussy tonight?'

Revolting was the best word to describe it. The elf couldn't believe the nerves of these men. They were supposed to be noble, not horny, sluggish perverts.

But no matter. He couldn't care less what they were talking about. After all, he wouldn't have been able to take any action, as that would only get him in more trouble, and there was no escaping the inevitable.

The old man thought over him regrets and his mistakes, thinking back to the time when everything was okay. Back to the time when he didn't do things that made him a dick, when he'd actually think things through instead of following an already failing team to the finish line rather than pushing on with the right people.

"Oh, come on," the guard on the right said, "we both know you can't pull anyone. Look at you, you're a sack of potatoes!" The guard gestured to the other's body, giggling and snorting.

"Oh, fuck you, you cunt!" The other said angrily, slapping the taller one's shoulder with his free hand. "I can pull bitches any day I want. Just you watch me."

"I've been watching you for your whole life, Rodger! You've been rejected so many times I shed a tear from laughing too much every time I think about it!"

The two knights squabbled, slapping and punching one another's shoulders. At least once or twice one of them would accidentally nip the old man in the jaw, or indirectly swing a hit at him, usually landing on his nose.

Occasionally, they'd also pass some insults Harlynn's way; teasing him, judging him. You know, insults. He wouldn't be affected by their snidey comments, though. He wasn't in the mood to listen to them blabber on, especially with their obnoxious, snobby accents. Well, the Rodger guy's accent was more questionable than snobby, but you get it.

The guards and the elf eventually reached the giant iron bars that lead to the open arena, where the shiny metallic blade was shining out to a roaring crowd.

Up in the first tier of the arena, the king and queen of Rohan sat unhappily on their thrones. The happenings that would soon happen was definitely not what they'd expected from their son. Killing an innocent man with no real right to die in front of a crowd just because their son got mad that he helped a supposed 'siren' didn't sit right with them.

Liam, however, sat next to his father with the most gleeful smile he'd ever worn. The man couldn't have been more proud of himself for achieving his goal. First to go was this imbecile of a pirate, then would be a crowd favourite: a siren. It really was the perfect plan to put him on the throne.

It did annoy him that his parents didn't seem to approve of his actions, even though he was going to kill a siren. He remembered how much his father used to talk about the great battle between man and the fish people. Siren were ugly, cold, monstrous mythicals that wanted to feast on human flesh. Why weren't they happy?

His attention immediately shifted to the gates when the crowd burst into an uproar, along with the faint sound of portcullis opening. He saw the old man with shackles, and the joy came back. He stood up and walked over to the small brick wall, standing proud and tall. As the ex-pirate was knelt at the guillotine, he began his little speech.

"People of Rohan," the prince announced, making sure everyone could hear his every word, "today we are here to judge the crimes of this backstabbing, lying traitor, for siding with one of our greatest enemies: a siren."

A few gasps erupted from the crowd, but no one heard as the rest of the people screamed for their prince. Well, a lot of women did. Many fine ladies thought Liam Kennedy was a very attractive figure. His muscles, his eyes, his waist and all the rest was quite divine.

"Harlynn... what's your last name? Oh, who cares, honestly. Do you, or do you not, plead guilty of your crimes you have committed?" The prince glared menacingly down upon the weak elf, smirking smugly.

"Ya' fuckin' sack o' balls, I didn't do shit!" Harlynn objected, his voice gruff. "You and yer egotistical face can go waddle in someone else's misery, ya' wanka! Yer sorry ass not only tried to innocently kill the poor thing just so ya' could get on yer parent's throne, ya' tried to kill me!"

The whole crowd gasped simultaneously in shock, all heads now turned to their beloved, handsome 'prince charming'. The young man gulped, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, his mouth becoming dry. He tried not to look affected by his comment, though he very clearly was, and brushed it off, huffing.

"See? The man's gone mad! Oh look at that, I rhymed!" He began to chuckle, quickly followed by the public.

The stadium laughed at the old man as he sat there, helpless. He supposed that this was his fate after all. He would've been exiled all those years ago, anyway. Guess fate could only lead him to what can only happen.

A man dressed in all black, even his face covered, stepped up onto the platform. The ex-pirate could hear the man's loud, clunky footsteps and him slowly stomped over the rope attached to the guillotine. The covered man took hold of the rope, and Harlynn closed his eyes. He knew it was very childish of him to hide from his death, but he couldn't help the small fear that swirled in his chest.

Just as he reminisced his last moment, the sound of the metal sliding down on the wood, every millisecond reaching closer to his neck, he never felt the last shock of pain jolt through him. He still felt his body. That's when he heard gasps, then a scream, then a woman yelling 'witch' at the top of her lungs.

The old man couldn't see what was happening, but clearly the blade of the guillotine had stopped moving, and, according to the whispers of the crowd the elf miraculously heard, a witch was standing on top of the arena, staring down at all the people of Rohan watching him die.

"You better get his ass out of that machine before I cure your entire kingdom, or just you, pathetic little prince." Shouted an awfully familiar voice that the elf could not recall whom it belonged to.

"Who the bloody hell are you?!" Liam shouted back at her, pissed.

"Someone who's seen this land rise and fall, just like the elf you're choosing to behead."

"Elf? He's not an elf, he's a pirate!"

"I've seen him twenty thousand years ago as a child, and he's younger than me. Didn't anyone tell you to respect your elders?"

The witch leaped off of the top of the stadium into the arena below, landing right behind the ancient elf. With the flick of her wrist, the guillotine vanished into thin air. The crowd gasped again, with more screams of terror and frightened civilians.

Nonchalantly, she helped the man up, ignoring his flabbergasted look when he saw her face. She strutted to the end of the platform, putting herself in a stance with her hands on her hips and her face cocky.

"You had your fun while it lasted, but now it's our turn."

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a/n

AAGGHHHHH im sorry for cliffhanging u AGAIN but its late and i just cant and im soooo sorrrryyyy i PROMISE part 2 of this will be GOOODDDDDD!!!

anyways love ya, vote, read, pls, support me in EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVery damn way imaginable i NEED IT!!!