Nothing that is the brilliance of Sons of Anarchy is mine but hey a girl can dream. This is another fun little one shot that I found on my laptop so I thought I'd put it up. This could really be any guy from Sons but I imagine Tig, my favorite black haired blue eyed maniac. Obviously the other guy is Clay. Please rate and review. Much love
She stands and looks into the sea of familar faces, casting one last silent vote. Most look at the pathetic mass of flesh infront of her or simply looking past. She's covered in blood, sweat and a disgusting collectin of other things, a torn t-shirt and ripped jeans. This time she didn't wear gloves, this time is more personal than all the others. She wants nothing to restrict the feel of his blood down her arm, knowing that the end of this era has died by her hand. He tries to beg, plead for his life but she has no sympanthy for him only hate, twisted with a mass of disgust.
He stands in the crowd, looking on at the not-so-little-girl, just wondering where the time had flown. She turned from a beautiful, captivating child into this fierce, loyal, breathtaking creature. She was in her element, looking completely comfortable and exceptionally at ease. Blood splatter dotted her fair skin, unmarred by the hot summer sun, dark hair tied back with sweat soaked ringlets escaping. Deep down he knows that it was his life that caused this, his lifestyle that exposed her into this world of lies and deceit, what she does frightens even him, sending her into situations she has no place being in.
She hears their once leader turned traitor begging for mercy, she knows just where to cut and just how long it takes. She knows no one will dare step forward to stop her, this is her gift to them, to her family. This man had held the power of life and death over many members, her father included. She'd gone into war for them all, she'd taken bullets meant for them. He'd almost turned her over, tried to have her killed when she wouldnt back him. He'd went behind all of them, making deal after deal, offering all of them up like sacrificial lambs. She draws the knife, sharpened to perfection and he stops, goes quiet and limp. It only takes a moment for her to sink it into his burnt out lung, holding on he gasps for breath.
She looks beautiful, like an angel of darkness, their own saviour. He watches as her eyes close and her lips curve upwards, for a moment he forgets where they are. He's taken back to his little girl, smiling up at him and offering up her ice cream cone. He remembers how she grew and turned into an enchanting young woman with her life full of hopes and dreams, his own light in the darkness. All to quickly do them memories come of her beaten and bloody, cold hollow eyes and how she didn't smile for months. The smell of the hospital and the looks of pity from the nurses, he remembers how determinded she was to see through her own revenge. How she trained for months, getting stronger and quicker, quieter and more deadly. He remembers watching her finish the bastards that had hurt her, how her smile had ghosted lips until finally she looked at me. There in that warriors face was the little girl who had cried out for her father in the middle of the night.
She looks at them all, slowly turning the knife, twisting and twisting until the light dims in his eyes. It's done, finished and completed, the traitor will never move against them again. So much had been lost in his regin as king, to much innocent blood spilled. Her eyes catch her father's and she smiles, he nods just the slightest, it's done.