She was beautiful. Resignation gave her an air of dignity, raising her chin and straightening her spine. She seemed well composed under the circumstances. The air was thick with fog, which hung around the crowd and bathed her in an eerie, surreal light. The gray sky matched her dress, somber and quiet compared to her usual style. Despite this, she had never looked more magnificent. A pearl necklace was wrapped around her neck. A morbid reminder of what was to come.
She mounted the first step and tossed her chin higher, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. She did not hesitate on the steps and never once did she falter. Only when her two feet were firmly planted on the scaffold did she pause and take a breath.
It was as if her moment of recongition prompted his realization of what was about to take place.
Why was this happening to her? What had she done? His mind raced, trying to find the answer. No, no! This is some sort of mistake. This couldn't possibly be happening!
His thoughts were cut off by her voice addressing the crowd. Her voice was surprisingly strong and clear and quickly hushed the awaiting crowd. She was saying something about coming here to die because according to the law she is judged to die. She blamed no man and did not come here to accuse anyone.
"Except, for you." she declared pointing a slender finger in his direction. "For truly, my death is your fault. If I hadn't met you, I would not be facing death before my time."
What? He looked around him bewildered, wondering when this had become about him. The crowd suddenly cried, "You have done this, your majesty! This is your majesty's will!" Confused, he spun around, hoping someone would help explain this all to him. But the crowd had disappeared. He stood alone.
The executioner knelt and asked for her forgiveness. She told him that she gave it willingly.
"For although you might weild the sword, you are not the cause of my death. He is." Her face turned to look at him again. The malicious glint in her eyes baffled him.
A lady moved to help her remove her jewelry, but she calmly placed her hand on the lady's arm. "I have one more thing to say. If any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best."
He tried to address her, but found he could not speak. Helplessly, he watched as she removed her jewelry. A cap was placed to cover her hair and a blindfold was being tied around her eyes.
She knelt down upon the straw. To soak up her blood.
The minute her knees hit the straw, his hands began to produce a warm liquid. Sweat. He turned over his hands and gasped. It wasn't sweat. It was blood. Warm blood.
"It's mine." His head snapped up when he heard her voice. "That's my blood on your hands." How could she possibly know that? She couldn't even see!
Suddenly, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. He had to get out of here. He took a step backward, but found he could not turn around.
He winced when he saw her lips curl into a smile. "Look at him trying to run away! Like he always does. You command the deed to be done, but cannot actually witness it yourself."
The sight of her lips moving and speaking while the rest of her face remained hidden and unreadable made his stomach turn.
"You will not run away. You will watch."
He saw the executioner bend forward and reach for something under the straw.
"Oh Lord, have mercy on me. To God I commend my soul!" she was saying as the executioner unveiled the sword. It gleamed in the light, blinding his vision.
As the executioner raised the sword, his vision was restored and he would have to watch. He took more steps backwards, but it mattered not. He couldn't get away this time.
Shaking his head, he tried to cry out and stop the process.
No!
"To Jesus Christ I commend my soul."
No!
"Lord Jesus receive my soul."
No!
"To Jesus Christ I commend my..."
And then there was darkness.