Lady Of Lake And Arrow |A Swan Lake Retelling|: Book One

Chapter 5

Sasha Siem - Crow

Daime,

Oh, my dearest friend. Most people think losing an eye or an arm in battle is worthy of praise. They do not know the true pain of the wounded mind.

- Letter from Second Mortal Queen Brenda of Escana, to Lady Daime of Springbarrow -

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"You are a horrid queen! Horrid, I say! The Rebels will kill you–"

The man never finished his last words as the axe came down upon his neck.

What a shame, Queen Ilena thought from where she sat on her high seat, hands folded daintily on her lap. She noticed a few of the guards subtly flinch away at the fresh blood spraying, adding to the already splattered ground. Servants stepped in to take the body away. The Queen knew she was certainly not a "horrid queen." Some people just had different opinions. The King had wisely placed her to deal with the scoundrel Rebels and the worse criminals, so visiting the execution room was a daily routine each week.

Tracing a long finger along her obsidian pendant necklace, she also thought that the King was smart to marry her. Queen Ilena had always known she would be a better ruler than the former queen of Andalia. The whole court knew, and the people adored her when she had become the new queen thirteen years ago.

The only thing Queen Ilena disliked about her Royal Court, though, were her stepsons and step-niece. Casrian was too soft hearted, but could probably be easy to rule over once he ascended the throne. Dallin, the second youngest, was too quiet and isolated to be cared for otherwise.

But Ryland–the Young Prince as most people would call him–and Raya . . .

"Your Majesty," Cyres, her personal advisor, read off a scroll. "This one has been convicted of treason for being caught selling unauthorized pastes and medicine to the Rebels."

Queen Ilena gave a wave of her hand. "Send them in."

The guards opened the doors, revealing two more guards holding a woman by the arms. The woman looked to be in her early thirties, covered in blood from beatings before and was extremely scrawny. She was too weak to fight back as she was pushed to her knees, chin resting atop the execution block.

"Please, Y-your Majesty," the woman rasped, barely audible. She was staring wide eyed at the puddle of blood that surrounded the block.

"Would you like to confess your crimes?" Cyres said in a well practiced voice.

"Y-yes, I would like to c-confess my crimes. I d-d-did sell to the R-Rebels. P-please, let me live," the woman squeaked.

"And do you have any living family?"

"Yes! My s-son–he n-n-needs me."

Cyres looked to the Queen, who was watching the woman closely, waiting for her judgement.

"Supporting the Rebels is punishable by death," Queen Ilena declared. The woman's lip quivered. The Queen nodded at Cyres; he got the message as easily as everyone else in the room.

"By the word of Her Majesty, Queen Ilena, I hereby sentence you to death. Let it be a message to us all." It was the words her personal advisor repeated multiple times a day.

Fear spread over the woman's face.

"No! Please! Your Majesty, the beloved one of all!" The woman screeched.

The executioner lifted his axe. The guards held the hysterical woman firmly down on the block. "Your Majesty!" Tears streamed down her face. "Let me work for you! Anything! Just let me live! Please, my son–" The axe swung down, silencing the woman forever.