Fever Dreams

Mine

Most didn't believe me when I said I'd do anything for my husband. He can do no wrong in my eyes. I'm utterly blind to his faults, and he knows it, and I know it, and he knows I know he knows it. Maybe that's why he did what he did the way he did it, so full of confidence. He knew nothing he could ever do would make me love him any less. My mistake. It always is.

We had only been married for a year when he started his first affair. I was afraid to lose him, so I turned a blind eye for a while. That was then. By the third time I had gotten pretty good at making people disappear. Call me a magician, if you will. Our neighbour was eyeing my husband and Abracadabra! Her body was found charred in a ditch.
I'm not always so dramatic. I can make it look like a suicide. But this story isn't about those girls, it's about one in particular.

Samyra.

Princess of our great nation. Heiress to the throne.

She could have any man she wanted, but she made the mistake of choosing mine.

And my poor husband, he went, like a lamb to the slaughter, knowing fully well that the penalty for defiling a royal was death by dragon.

Needless to say, they were caught. The Emperor showed mercy, he would put my beloved husband in an arena with two doors. Behind one was a maiden, behind the other was a dragon. People paid money to come watch.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

A figure with a bag over their head was lowered into the arena. Poor victim. The crowd roared, hoping for a good show. Hoping he would choose the dragon, be ripped to shreds. The prisoner removed the bag and the audience held their breath, then confusion ensued because Princess Samyra was locked in the Arena and no one knew why. The emperor was barking orders left and right. There was nothing anyone could do. No one knew which door held the dragon, not even the Emperor himself. Samyra was calm for a woman facing half-certain death. She put her ear to both doors, listening. Then, running over to the far side of the ring, she raised one manicured hand and pointed a shaky finger at the door on the right. Ironic cause she chose wrong. The entire arena held it's collective breath.

Out the door came a maiden. They all sighed in relief and began to clap. The Emperor wept. I would give him a reason to cry, for you see, that woman was me.

I am Morai, and I always come for what is mine.

I killed the princess, wrapped my fingers around her slender, jewelled throat and squeezed until she was choking on her own blood. There was nothing anyone could do. Furious, the guards opened the second door, hoping for a swift execution by dragon. Out came my precious husband, for you see, I was the real dragon here. Don't ask how I did it, I'll never tell. A magician never reveals her secrets.

The Emperor was beyond outraged. He was anguished and broken and full of hate.

But I am Morai, and I always come for what is mine.

He put us before a firing squad of a dozen men in a public square. My poor husband cried like a baby. I laughed, cause we would be one even in death. How romantic!

The Emperor did not bag our faces. He wanted the whole world to see us suffer. He had specially requested blunt bullets so we could bleed out. Well the Emperor was a fool and his daughter was a whore.

The night before our execution, my husband requested to see a childhood friend. He hugged her so close. After all I had done for him. It was then that I realized there was only one way he would ever truly be mine alone.

The next morning, the Empress decided she wanted the faces of the prisoners bagged, like they had bagged her daughter. She watched from her shady dais as the soldiers lined up and raised their guns. On the sound of the whistle, they fired. I fired. For you see, I was one one of the soldiers. The bodies jerked as the bullets rained. The two forms twitched and convulsed as they fell. When the dust settled, onlookers saw that nothing is ever as it seems. For the pair of corpses on the ground belonged to my late husband and the late Emperor.

Don't ask how I did it, I'll never tell.

A magician never reveals her secrets.