A/N...

Okay...i suppose i have some explaining to do: Iam reposting this under my original penname because i am too lazy to have two accounts. So yes, for those who didnt know, Beautiful Revolution and Belle Resistance were one in the same.

I had created the second account to hide from a few people i did not want to read my story, but i just don't really care anymore. So from now on The Price of Freedom shall be posted under Beautiful Revolution. Okay? Okay.

Thanks for putting up with me, and I shall try to be a bit more sane in the future.

BR

ps... If its not too much of a bother, go ahead and repost comments that you made, or comments you have to this dilemmma i created. Thanks for putting up with me :P

"Bring her in."

The crowd parted as the young girl was thrown violently at the feet of the shah. Hushed murmurs spread through the multitude as two eunuchs loomed over her, swords pointed at her bloodstained back to keep her from moving. She lifted herself up from the ground, her cheek stinging where it had hit the marble. Warily she supported herself, the palms of her hands resting heavily on the cool stone of the palace floor as their blades pressed into her flesh. She refused to acknowledge the pain that flooded her senses, not wanting them to have any satisfaction from her agony. Swallowing her tears she resigned herself to the fate that awaited her, knowing that the worst was yet to come.

From behind the shah's throne he watched, leaning into the dark corner to hide from the scene that was preparing to take place before him. She was just one more case for the Glory of the Universe to illustrate his irrefutable judgment, and he could not bring himself to care for the dark musings of a king who had no inclination of what was truly just.

Erik retreated back into the shadows, determined to leave the room and wait for the 'trial' to end. He walked along the far wall, turning a deaf ear to the leers of the decrepit old nobles at the woman now supplicated herself before them all. Nobles. Truly there was never a more paradoxical term in the history of the world. A group of men whose sole purpose in life was to bring about the ruin of those who needed their protection the most, who sought their help only to be turned away. And so he reached out for the door, one gloved hand resting upon the handle. But in that fleeting moment he paused, and made the mistake of looking.

The girl could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen, but her shoulders slumped with the weight of the world and her eyes reflected an understanding that was well beyond her years. She was stunning in her anguish: tattered skirts of faded crimson pooled around her twisted form, matted hair the color of mahogany fell about her face in a veil of indifference, pale skin blanched from pain. From the distance Erik could see that she had been severely beaten; her wrists were bruised and swollen and red patterns trailed across the back of her white bodice. He could not see her eyes, which she obediently kept focused on the floor beneath her. As a woman, to look into the face of the shah was to ask for death.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the great hall, and Erik looked up to see a man enter the room, head held high and a great contemptible grin distorting his face. He recognized him as Mirza Arif Kahn, the cousin to the king and owner of the lands just west of the palace. From what Erik had heard of him he was a man of unquestionable cruelty, and was in the highest favor of the shah who, for reasons unknown to Erik, thought of Arif as a brother.

"King of kings," he humbly bowed before the king, and then, at the beckoning of the shah, rose to stand next to the girl. As he did so his foot intentionally ground into the fragile hand which she used to support herself, bringing her down to the floor once again. Erik saw pain flicker in her eye, but not a sound escaped her lips as she righted herself.

"Well, I must say that these charges are most unfortunate. Such a pretty little bride…it will be a shame for you to loose her, Arif." The shah shook his head as he stared shamelessly at the young woman's body, his meaning obvious as his eyes roamed from the curves of her hips up to her perfect oval face.

"I was hoping, O Great King, that you would be merciful and spare her undeserving life." Erik watched as the girl's head shot up to look at the menacing figure that loomed over her, her eyes filled with hatred and contempt. She quickly turned her head back towards the ground, but her look of derision was not lost to Erik.

The shah laughed, unaccustomed to such a plea from a husband whose wife had been unfaithful to him. "And please, Arif, tell me why I might do that? She has wronged you, shamed your house and your name. She deserves to die. There is no humiliation and death that a whore does not merit."

Erik himself could not believe the request for her life; In Persia a woman was worth nothing, and an adulteress was worth even less. With a quiet sigh Erik turned away from the door and returned to his place behind the king, his back leaning against the wall as his inexorable curiosity defeated his indifference.

He continued to watch her, captivated by her determination to show no emotion. It was as if her soul had been removed from her body. She sat before the king and her husband who were so whimsically deciding her fate, and yet she might as well have been deaf to their arguments. He saw that the dark stains upon her back were spreading and wondered how much more blood she would loose this evening.

"Of course, you are right, my lord. But I am willing to live with her shame and humiliation. She comes from a very respectable family, and I would not want to pollute their honor with the stain of her sin," he looked down at her then, staring at the top of her head as he continued. "Her death would mean immediate excommunication from society for her uncle, and we all know what fate awaits those who fall out of the graces of the community." Her eyes went up to the man before her again, but now there was a disquieting fear that shone in her eyes.

"She is just a woman. There are hundreds more that would be more than happy to take her place."

"I have found that in these past months I have come to care for her very much and would like to keep her in my possession." The shah laughed and looked down at the girl again, whose stony gaze had returned to the marble floor.

"Well," the shah began, "we can certainly see why." A burst of laughter filled the room as every man present responded to the shah's quip. Every man but Arif Kahn and Erik . Both stared at the king, anxiously awaiting his decision. "However, we cannot simply let this go unpunished, by any means." As he spoke he stood, then stepped down from the throne to crouch in front of the girl whose eyes never left the floor. He brought a finger under her chin and delicately lifted her gaze to his, forcing her to look at him. Erik saw then that her eyes were not the dark brown that was usually found in Persian race, but instead blazed emerald green as she stared up at the shah. "Well, if we cannot kill her I simply do not know what to do. Perhaps you should take her to the khanum. She will know the proper punishment for such a deceitful offense." He looked over his shoulder at the shadows behind him. "Don't you agree, Erik?" The shah laughed as the masked man who stood there made no effort to participate in the conversation.

Still laughing, he motioned for the two men who stood over her to take her away and Erik watched as they reached down and each grabbed an arm, forcefully lifting her to her feet and dragging her wordlessly out of the room.

A wave of nausea hit Erik as he thought about the fate that awaited her, and a shudder ran through him as he glared at the shah from the safety of the shadows. To go to the khanum would be worse than death, and a weight of uneasiness settled in his soul for the girl who was now being pulled through the hallways to the door of the king's mother.

The shah returned to his throne, and upon sitting waved impatiently at the man who stood before him. "Be ready to collect your wife in a few days, Arif. I trust that you have sufficient means of accommodating yourself until then?"

"I do, my Lord." Arif turned to leave, but when he reached the door he turned to face the king once more. "My Lord, are you aware of what the khanum will do to her?" The lack of emotion in his voice shook Erik, and he wondered how it was possible for a man to talk of another person so uncaringly.

"How am I to know what tricks she has hidden up her sleeves?" The shah had been staring apathetically at the window, but after a moment looked back towards the court, a slight smirk across his face.

"Why do you ask? Are we suddenly concerned for your wife's chastity?" he mocked

A low chuckle echoed throughout the court and Arif shook his head, his eyes meeting the king's. "Majesty, I couldn't care less what you do to her. All I ask is that you don't touch her face. I will be back in seven days for her, if that suits the khanum's taste?"

"Seven days. I will see you then, cousin."

"Yes, my lord."

"Arif?" the shah called after him. "Would you be so kind as to explain to me why you really want Aminta alive?"

The young man shrugged his shoulders as he pushed the door open, a wolfish grin plastered to his face. "The things we do for love, my lord." And with that, he left the palace, the crack of a whip echoing in his ears.