Came across this when going through my files, though unfortunately, it's the only chapter I have and not sure if had more but got lost or if this is just the only chapter I found. Well, actually, I came across another file that's VAGUELY similar and looks like it's the whole thing but I have to change the names. Anyways, I thought I might as well share it with you. Give me your input and if I should continue or not.
Before I forget to mention, this story is alternate universe and some characters, like the King, have been replaced.
Tangled rightfully belongs to Disney.
Simms Vining is an ambiguously named OC that rightfully belongs to me.
Executions always drew a crowd of people, so it's no surprise a motley crowd of curious onlookers gathered in the courtyard, families bringing their children, babies in tow and elderly relatives came to witness today's festivity. A balcony overlooked the courtyard, across the balcony sat the scaffold, constructed into the stoned wall. Unnoticed to all, a shadow disappeared behind the curtain. The militia kept the crowd in order as they surrounded the platform, the sun peeking overhead in the east, slowly making its way over the courtyard's high wall, not a single cloud in the endless blue sky.
A middle aged man in a cardinal red top and dark gray bottom stood on the display place, a golden helmet with cardinal red feathers on a fin hid the gentleman's brown hair. Along with wearing white gloves stretching to his elbows and black boots complementing his uniform, the kingdom's crest, the sun, was engraved on his gold and black leather chest plate. Digging for an itch in his mustache, Captain Gainey turned to face the burly man with slight protruding gut in hosiery next to him. A scar running down his squashed, stoned face, the bald man ran his thumb down the long blade. He then shows the bloodied thumb to the sanguineous crowd, gratifying their anticipation. Nodding in approval, Gainey turned his attention to the wooden door leading to the courtyard from the dungeon.
"Bring out the prisoner!" was the gruff order. On cue, two guards burst through the doors, escorting today's pawn out in the cool, fresh air. The crowd jeered at the sight of a youthful man of average height not even in his thirties.
The executioner took note of his new disheveled, insipid victim, grime and dirt decorated his long, squared face. Dried blood coated his unruly hair that matched his slightly damped stubble goatee. The condemned man wore a two-piece coarsely woven sepia color fabric with the leggings shoved into his light brown leather boots, top of the boots folded and has a slit running almost the length of the fold. Dark brown shoe accessory rested over the top of the boots, held in place with two straps wrapped around arch and ankle with rivets. A weathered teal leather vest made up of multiple panels of fabric rested over a white button up shirt with sleeves rolled up below the elbows. The first buckle on the topmost vest is left dangling freely, revealing the collar of the shirt is a basic squared edge with a tan button and has topstitching around its edges. In total, five small buckles on a piece of leather to the right, separate to the rest of the vest the attached by small rivets in each corner. A small corresponding hook on the left side loops through the four bottom metal loops. Eight straight panels equal in width makes the top front of his teal vest arranged in a pattern the neckline. The edge of the top part of the vest begins mid-front-shoulder, attends down toward the second buckle at mid-chest level is edged with a single strip of leather that tapers as it extends toward the chest. Below the vest, the tunic consists of more equally sized strips, vertically arranged. On the back, a single piece of yoke starting out narrow at the armholes and widens as it slightly lowers towards in the center. A thin brown belt around his waist threads through three small loops on the vest, one in the center back and one each halfway between the sides up front. A wider belt wraps over the thinner one, having a diamond pattern running right along its center, to rectangular loops to hold it together and a large brassy buckle. A square shape pouch with a brown button suspends off the thicker belt by two loops in the top, which the belt threads through.
The prisoner gazed at the grimly furniture on the scaffold. A wooden block twenty inches high with two grooves cut opposite of each other shaped to accept a person's neck sat in the center with a wicker basket placed in front of a groove. Next to the objects stood the broad shouldered captain with his perfectly straight posture, watching in intimidating silence as the royal guards lead their prisoner to the scaffold. Nearby, the executioner balanced himself on a wooden staff of the axe, tip of its wide curved blade rested on the planks.
"Off with his head!" the prisoner winced as a shrill voice screeched in his ear as a cold shiver ran down the convict's spine, the lump formed by the largest cartilage of the larynx in the front of his throat commonly known as the Adam's apple rose up and down as he swallowed his fear.
Children huddled close to their mothers in fear of being snatched and be whisked away in the wind. Women of high society glared at the brunette man in disgust, sticking up their noses as the doomed brunette passed them. As most of the crowd cheered, the prisoner caught sight of a little boy with sunken eyes taking his finger and slide it across his neck.
"Let blood be spilled!" another voice cried. Warm saliva hit the side of the man's face, beginning to trickle down his forehead, into his eye and down his cheek. The young man longed to brush away the spittle but the rope had his hands tightly bounded behind his back, restricting the thief of much movement.
Rhythmic drums beating the death sentence march sounded as the condemned man hesitantly forced his numb legs to ascend the wooden steps, holding his head high, if he is to die, he'll die with dignity. As he gets closer to the furniture where his neck will lie, the young man scrutinized the wooden block. To him, it seemed someone polished the object until it looked brand new, probably for the special occasion of beheading the most wanted fugitive in the kingdom.
"Don't lose your head now!" another voice barely heard above the commotion chortled. Stopping in front of the block, the two escorts pushed down on their prisoner's sore shoulders, grunting in response as his knees thudded onto the raw planking, pain instantly shooting through.
"Pop his top off!" another cry came, although distant.
The doomed man's brown eyes skimmed the faces of the crowd, all of them showing no sign of remorse. Only cold eyes and stoned faces are apparent. The crowd fall into silence as Captain Gainey unrolled a piece of parchment, frowning at the words written thereon.
"What's the matter Captain? Can't read?" the convict croaked, forcing a lopsided grin.
"Methinks you hold the warrant upside down." Some of the nearer spectators forced a laugh at the inferior witticism.
"I'll hold you upside down, maggot, to ensure your carcass is completely drained of blood after your top is popped off!" spat Gainey as he glared at his captive for a few seconds then bent his head to the paper and nosily hawking his throat before speaking.
"On this break of day, this lowly thief kneels before you has been justly convicted and is found guilty of numerous counts of larceny against the kingdom, the highest being pilfering the State treasury. Penalties of robbing the public purse—"
"Robbing the public purse?" a cry from the crowd interrupted.
"Then why isn't the tax payer up there?" A roar of laughter made Gainey stop reading the decree. His face reddened at the affront of having his thunder stolen by an inane remark, but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the parchment until the hubbub had died before continuing.
"—Penalties of . . ." Gainey hesitated, before changing his words.
". . . such crimes are severely punishable. It is my sworn duty to ensure that the punishment is carried out," Captain Gainey addresses the crowd, before closely examining the condemned man kneeling before the block. The thief met the captain's bloodthirsty gaze and shot him an icy glare.
"Flynn Rider, by order of King Ximun VI of Corona, you have been sentenced to death . . . by beheading," he loudly stressed out the last three words. The headsman viciously smiled on the enunciation of the last word, showing off his rotten miniature gravestone teeth, some missing, eagerly waiting to carry out the sentence.
One of the escorts folds the back of Flynn's collar back, revealing the white skin of his nape. The crowd cheered in euphoria, breaking the silence as rough hands shoved Flynn forward, demanding blood.
The thief's heart pounded against his chest now his neck rested on the block, chin dangling over the edge and eyes staring directly into the soon to be full wicker basket. A guard's foot dug into the thief's back, holding him in position as the headsman approached. Water began to swell in Flynn's eyes, feeling the cool wood press into his throat. Flynn's face paled as he felt the icy cold blade touch his skin. Shadows moved and Flynn could see the axe's silhouette rising high, glint of the sun reflects off the blade as it hovering above the executioner's head. For a moment, time seem to stand still for Flynn Rider as the blade stopped above the executioner's head before making its descent. Inhaling through the nostrils and breathing out, Flynn closed his eyes, waiting to hear the whistle of the blade as it arched down to claim his life.
"Gainey" is the last name of the guy who voices 'Captain of the Guards,' M. C. Gainey.