I am dying - it was inevitable. The poison given to me over the course of several months have spread throughout my veins and seep through my bones. I was alone. There was not one single person to hold me, to comfort me, or to cry for me... I am all alone... NOTE from the writer: I'm an amateur writer so please overlook plot holes, grammar issues, or anything else a story is supposed to have. This is my original story so... as the saying goes "if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all".

In the era where swords rule, where women consider their modesty their greatest virtue. Where a man would kill to find his wife warming another mans bed, a time when women would consider it the greatest of adultery or fornication to warm a bed other than her husbands. A time when an honorable man guards his gaze, for his gaze is solely for his wife alone, as well as his heart. He's feared, ruthless, cold, heartless, manipulative, cunning, a rake. Or so they assume... She's beautiful yet silent, not by a defect, she simply dislikes to mingle with gossip.Yet she has emotional scars that no one sees behind her smile, but a few. Cover by @forcade