Peter's hand wanted desperately to shake, to show that he didn't want this, to expose his true thoughts on the situation. In truth, he was petrified, but he had to fight it. He had to treat her like any other criminal. If he let his own personal feelings come before justice, what was to stop others from doing the same? He had to set an example for people, as the first real monarch in hundreds of years.

So he did his duty, he held the gun to the back of her head with a blank face. It was an impressive feat, to hide so much emotion. If he could have it his way, he'd drop the weapon, curl up in a ball, and cry. But you would not have guessed it if you saw him, you would have thought that this is what he wanted to do. That he wanted to murder this guilty woman, that she had done him wrong. Even his eyes decieved you.

He briefly thought of how barbaric the situation was. How is standing around, watching a defenseless woman recieve a bullet to the brain civilized? That's what he was going to do, he was going to murder her. Kill her.

Oh, God. I'm going to get blood on me. Blood. Her blood. It'll be splattered all over me, proof of my abhorrent crime. I can't wash it off. It'll be there forever. She's going to fall down, and she won't have a face anymore. No more face...

He was sure her life flashed before her eyes now. Now that he stood behind her, with a gun to her head, like a coward. He wondered if she thought about her other lover, the man who she was going to die for. How he loathed that man now. He would have much preferred him to feel steel on the back of his head. He deserved it so much more, for not being here. He should be here, he should at least try to save her. He was alive, and now she would be dead.

Perhaps he has other women to attend to. Peter thought scathingly.

"Turn!" someone barked. The maliciousness of his tone made Peter wince inwardly. That was no way to talk to someone seconds away from death. He was glad he didn't have to say it himself, his voice surely would have shook.

That wasn't all Peter winced at. Now, he had to face her. He had to look at that stunning face, the one that he was about to ruin. Those beautiful, light brown eyes, that would fly out of their sockets soon. If he aimed for the center of her face, maybe her lower jaw could fly out and her teeth would gore him, at least then he could curl into a ball and cry without being looked down upon. He was happy with that new thought, he'd be eager to fall and bawl once she was dead.

Then, he noticed her facial expression. She tried her best to be strong for him, sensing how hard this was. It flattered him that she was making such an attempt, especially for the man that was about to execute her. Not even a tear rolled down her face.

He cocked the hammer.

She shed her first, single tear.

He pulled the trigger, and the bullet slammed into his wife's pretty little nose.

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This is the first time I've done writing like this. Writing so dramatic, and vague, so please review, and tell me what you think. That way, I'll know if I should continue to write stories like this. Please review, or you'll end up like Peter's woman!