The Claim

Chapter Fourteen - The Plan

She did not know what to say to her brother, she saw the fear in his eyes as she knelt down, holding her hands together. She guessed they would be too big a target to simply murder there and then, the king regent would probably want to kill them on his own, to make sure that this time, the dead was done, and the threat eliminated. Her brother followed her lead, kneeling down as the guards chained them to take them. She did not know if her plan would work, yet she hoped it would or she had just killed herself and her brother.

She closed her eyes as they led them into the city, she knew where they were going, into the palace, into the dungeons where they would be executed later, once the crowd gathered and the people were ready to cheer in excitement. She wondered how it would be done, like their mother or a quick death? She guessed it would be slow, she guessed her mother's death was slow and painful. Perhaps her last thoughts were of home, of her children... somehow, that brought a little peace, not too much... not enough. 

She wanted to say she was sorry but a part of her was glad they were going together, as horrible and foolish as that was to even think, it was true, she loved her brother and if she was to fail, at least she would be with her family, people who truly cared for her, not just pretended to or had to, because she would rule over them. Merek had seen the best and worst of her, and like should, he stuck by her throughout everything, the good and the bad and for that she was grateful, almost happy yet at the same time, dreaded his death, more than her own.

She tried to hide her fear as they were led into the palace, like dogs on a lead. She closed her eyes as they dragged them both down into the dungeons, locking them up inside, away from any light, hidden away quietly where they could do no harm to anyone. It was part of her plan, but her plan could go wrong, it was not fool proof and she did not pretend it was, instead she was terrified of something going awfully wrong.

"I am sorry" she whispered.

"Do not be, I thought long and hard about how things might be, how this might end. I have come to terms with it, made my peace."

"It is not fair."

"We both know, it is life that is not fair, Mirabelle. I know I have never said this before, but given the circumstances... I think it best. I would love to have seen you take the crown you rightfully deserve."

"Merek, do not say that, do not do that, please", she begged. Tears down her cheeks as she shook her head, trying to move forward just enough to see him properly. She did not want to hear it, his goodbye, he was not going to die, it was not his time to die, he was too young, they both were. Sixteen, with a life ahead of them, both ruling if they wished, a crown she would share with him.

"This is my fault, someone knows about me... because me, my good heart has gotten us killed, so do not tell me not to say goodbye, because it is my fault we are both here."

"I forgive you", Mirabelle whispered. 

She had to forgive him, if she was going to the grave, she did not want to go with hatred for her brother, in her heart. She half-expected the crowd to be cheering but there was silence, an eerie silence that called for her death just the same. She closed her eyes, but it was still there. Had death come for her? Had it arrived for the both of them? Uncertainty pecked at her head like crows, desperate for food. She could not stop thinking about their mother, about her pain, their shared pain as it soon would be. All she wanted was her freedom, hers and Merek's, she was going to live for a while, plot and plan later.

"Who was it?", she asked.

"Cristiana, her name was Cristiana."

"I do not know of her, but if we make it, we can settle the score, if she has betrayed us."

Merek nodded at the idea. She was not sure whether to smile or cry. The end was so close, she could almost taste it, feel it running and yet, she did nothing, nothing but wait, hope and a part of her prayed for a different outcome, any other outcome the gods could dream up for the pair.

No one wanted to meet the end in dirty, dusty prison, iron bars thick and heavy, straw for a bed and stale bread for food. She cursed it all, the disgusting place, the same place her mother was in last, the same place her mother faced her death in, publicly executed to please a sick crowd with sick, twisted thoughts and ideas of fun. Who could ever look at a dying man or woman, innocent of all crimes but one, the use of magic, and condemn them to death, cheering and baying for blood? Only a sick mind that deserved to be there instead of the condemned.

Whatever time Mirabelle had left, she was going to use it, to fight with her might, or die trying. She was not going to be a public display where people bet on the blood, how much there was or how fearful someone looked, or how many blows it took for them to die. She was going to face the guards, win or lose, it was going to be their last fight, their only battle.