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The Lying of Hope

Scarlet noted as the edges of her daughter's eyes widen, her vivid irises frosted with an opaque veil of surprise. Kori obeyed her orders, setting the tray lightly onto the vanity, nibble fingers tugging at the chair's headboard as her daughter fluidly freed the seat from its wooden confinement. Once her daughter had placed the armoire in angle that allowed her mother a frontal view, Kori settled herself in the chair's cushioned seat, her spine straightened rigidly, her features in a lax state of indifference.

Her daughter's gaze was cold as her eyes roamed Scarlet's features, noting the tugging tensed lines of her mother's mouth; the furrowed folding of her eyebrows, the slight flare of her nostrils. Kori's eyes wandered lower, regarding the muscles from the nape of her mother's neck to her spine as they coiled in a tight quivering tension, her mother pressing the blades of her shoulders into the grain of the door. Carefully, Scarlet shifted, concealing the doorknob behind the small arch of her back as her hand wound around its golden surface.

A debate waged war in the recess of Scarlet's soul, two prominent choices of action cried their arguments fiercely. She could turn back now; hold her tongue for just a little longer, preserve her little angel's innocence for only if a moment more until the time would arise for when she could not avoid the subject any longer. However, her conscious tried to convince her that vey long avoid event was upon her and she did not have luxury of time to wait or the consequences would be more dire than she could possibly fathom.

"What do you wish to discuss with me, mother? Am in a trouble of some sorts?" Kori would not receive an answer to her inquiries. Her mother was unresponsive against the door, her lustrous locks creating a fringe over her lowered eyelashes, her lips pursed in a tight firm line.

"You're frightfully pale. Please sit down and I will go call a maid to bring the necessary medicine. You really need to relax more, mother. It cannot be good for your health, running around so wildly. It is a wonder that your heart is still beating with you strain you place on it."

Her suggestions and chides fell silent to her mother's deaf ears, her pupils dilated as her irises shaded with hopeless fright. Scarlet was not foreign to her daughter's thoughts. Kori's mouth did not have to express her fears of watching her mother lose her sanity to the painful delusions of her past. It must have felt like an obligation, her righteous duty to rescue Scarlet, to save her from whatever imaginary world she was allowing herself to drown and return her to reality of the world. It was ironic to say in the least, for her daughter was the one whom was blind to reality, her world a mere illusion. It was never intentionally her daughter's purpose but rather the blame of Scarlet, for never telling her daughter what she rightfully needed to know.

Scarlet reached the peak of inner dilemma, beyond the aid of logical thinking and in the clutches of necessary action. Silently praying, she laid her hopes on her daughter, wishing a single glance of her beautiful angel could show her the correct path. Gradually, she raised her eyelashes, slowly ascending her focus to her daughter's tired form when the spine of book caught her attention, a forgotten nightmare of her past.

"Where did you find that?" Confusion muddled the depths of her daughter's irises, her eyes muted to the hue of unrefined emerald as Scarlet's harsh tone vibrated the walls.

"Find what, mother?" There was a sincere inflection of confusion in her daughter's voice but Scarlet would not hear it for she was absorbed by the book as it danced tauntingly in her vision, stirring the familiar shiver of long forgotten fears.

"The book on the furthest pile, the one without an author or title. Where did you acquire that book?" Her voice flowed like steel, chilling and hard. Her daughter shivered at the understated command in her mother's voice, turning her vision toward the book with frantic eyes before once more returning her focus to Scarlet's tensely coiled form.

"In the library, hidden behind one of the books on the upper shelf." Her daughter replied, a slight edge audible in her tone. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"When? When did you discover this book?" Kori felt the immense pressure behind the cold words, the fright that trembled her mother's voice, the fear that danced darkly in her eyes. Kori's hand gripped a small handful of her skirts; her knuckles turned a ghastly white as she gnawed her lower lip, attempting to comprehend the unraveling mystery before her.

"I was five at the time." Kori answered, boring her eyes into her mother's unwaveringly, hoping her mother would perceive her desire to understand the secrecy before her. "But I do not understand. Why is it your asking me these questions? What is wrong, mother, please tell me. I want to help you."

She knew her daughter's concern was genuine; it shined in her eyes, visible through the clouded veil of fearful apprehension. She knew her daughter's heart beat with a pained lurch for her unstable condition, selflessly wishing for the improvement of Scarlet's health. Her lips trembled with words of panic, her hands twitched in her skirts, her skin ashen, all indicators to Scarlet of the plaguing worries that haunted her daughter. However, this did not concern her daughter's soft heart or her worry plagued mind. This did not consider her fears and nightmares but only of the knowledge she possessed.

"Did you read it?" She questioned turning a blind eye to her daughter's ghostly knuckles, to her lips twisted into a pout, unfocused eyes hazed by moist tears.

No answer fell from Kori's mouth as she leaned in a slight arch as if she was trying to escape Scarlet's iced gaze. "Did you read it?" Scarlet questioned once more, eyes hardening as her daughter shifted her focus away, her spine quivering from repressed shivers.

"I will not repeat myself again. Did you or did you not read it?" Her daughter's eyes flickered to Scarlet's orbs, for only the most fleeting of moments, forming a wordless connection one Scarlet had witnessed in men after countless years of companionship and unquestioned trust. Then her daughter bowed her head, her forehead brushing the fabric of her skirts, her hair dancing against the curves of her cheeks. It was her daughter's reply, her noiseless answer to her question; Kori had read the book and suffered silently for ten years.

Her semblance of weak control, her feeble hope that she could prevent introducing her daughter to this tragedy crumbled to ashes, scorched by the fire of truth. She felt the drag of her feet against the waxed surface of the floor as she wandered deeper into her daughter's chamber, dejectedly sitting onto the foot of her daughter's bed for she feared if she were to stand any longer she would collapse into a broken mess.

The book waltzed harmlessly in her vision, their words twirling before her eyes as she gazed upon her fallen daughter, her wingless angel. "I had chosen that diary for I knew it could not lie. Books do not have traitorous mouths that scum under the pressure of pain nor an influential heart dictated by raging emotions and unstable morals. They do not even own a conscious, a mind in which to ensure the safety of the priceless information." Her daughter's head slowly raised emerald irises peered at her through dewed eyelashes.

"I was foolish of course in believing that philosophy. Anyone in this world could find that book and those who are literate could easily read it and know of my terrible secret. And as fate would have it, the person I so dearly love and desired nothing more but her happiness, had the misfortune of finding my disgusting miscalculation and learned of her nightmare at an age she was unable to comprehend its severity." Her breath hitched, a soft pause in her speech as she gazed at her daughter, emerald eyes gazing at her with quiet attentiveness. "I can only imagine the anguish you have suffered these long ten years, the circling thoughts in your head as you tried to process the surrealism of it. And I was blind to it all, so immersed in my own problems I failed to see that my precious little girl was quietly crying inside, begging for my attention."

"Why now? Why today of all times?" Her daughter interrupted afterwords, her voice had lost its notes of jovial mirth; her words a whispering wind on a cold winter night, eerily familiar and so achingly heartbreaking.

"There was a never a time to tell you, not one that I least thought appropriate. You were always so young. How was I supposed to tell a child that she was born not from the father she so deeply loves and adores but out of wedlock and not even under the conditions of love? How was I supposed to inform an innocent little girl that her mother was defiled by a disgusting scoundrel and convince her of my love so she would not self destructively despise her own person? How could I convince you to embrace and accept your own character when I am struggling with that very problem myself?"

It was not clearly visible, undetectable to the untrained eye; however Scarlet could see the flare of life that seeped into her daughter's soul. Her shoulders, once hunched and lax, gained a tight stiffness as she rose from her chair, the skirts of her dress tailing the ground unceremoniously as she glided to the open window.

Her hair softly danced in the breeze, her frame bathed in the last dwindling rays of sunlight. She was her angel, her beautiful little angel. "What do you see when you look outside this window? Do you see a blessed land, bathed in prosperity and wealth, happiness and joy, filled with freedoms and unbound lives? When you peer through these windows can you see the joyful people as they pass? Can you hear their hearty laughs and see their beaming smiles?"

Scarlet closed her mouth, watching as her daughter climbed to her emotional rapture, the peak of her vulnerability. "There has been this dark veil pulled over my eyes and a world once full of grandeur and beauty turned grotesque. I cannot feel the warmth of sun or appreciate its golden beauty. The sky has been muted, turned into a sea of gray, as if man has dumped its smoked pollution, leaving it to rot as they destroy their next victim. People's laughter, once so beautiful and gay, has now become ugly bitter cries, deceitful lies spilling from their devious mouths with twisted smiles."

The octaves of her voice rose unnaturally, breaking the smooth rhythm of her tone as soft sobs escaped her lips. "And what do you think caused that mother? What do you think warped your daughter's world into this gray vortex of hate and lies and deceit? What do you think tainted her family, her happiness, even the world outside her?"

Her voice climbed higher and higher with every spoken syllable, falling from her tongue callously as she narrowed her eyes in disgust, glaring sharply at her mother. "It is that book of yours! That book is destroying us, destroying you! You should have never written. Who would want to read that appalling story? Who would enjoy that tale? No one wants that book, mother; no one in the world would accept that book. Even you, its writer, has tried to erase it from this world, attempting to smother existence by hiding it away."

Diamond tears slipped from the corner of her eyes, her chest rhythmically falling and rising, filling her depleted lungs with the much appreciated air. "Do you think I am that foolish, mother? That it is not possible for me to understand what is happening before me. Must I be heavy burden to you, instead of your trusted daughter? Has your training been taught to me to make feel powerless?"

Muted understanding enlightened her vision, her daughter's features and words vividly clear to her mind. A chuckle passed her lips as she shook her head, amusement crinkling the corner of her eyes. "It seems my ignorance is far deeper than I originally thought it to be, another terrible miscalculation on my part."

Her lithe frame rose from the bed, shuffling soundly to her daughter's trembling frame. Tenderly, she cupped her daughter's flushed cheeks into her callous hands, her lips brushing gently against her daughter's forehead in a motherly kiss. "For it is seems I have failed to realize how precious of gem my beautiful daughter is. I have overlooked your unwavering trust, blind to your sympathy and left you alone with only your thoughts, which has formed haunting doubts in your mind."

With a firm gentleness, she turned her daughter's gaze into her unclouded orbs. "But now I can clearly see you and with my full capability appreciate you for what you are. You are an intelligent, strong, beautiful woman who has been touched by Christ's mother, the Virgin Mary, blessed by the hands of God and cherished by His son. And as the woman who gave birth to you, I will atone for my sins against you by loving you with every fiber of my body and protecting you with this very life I own. You are, and for the end of time, my precious child, my most beloved and cherished and my most treasured and trusted. So do not doubt yourself child or hate yourself for the mistakes of those before you and continue to trust yourself as you have trusted me and follows your dreams, whatever you choose them to be, for I love you no matter what you do."

Words of denial scorched Kori's tongue but she would not speak them for her mother's gaze was strong, genuinely honest and her words sweet honey, their taste so divinely addicting it drove her senses mad. Acid tears burned behind her eyes as she buried her head into her mother's clothed shoulders, crying years of anguish and sorrow into her mother's sleeve.

Scarlet wound her arms around her daughter's petite waist, holding her closely to her breast. Soothingly, she fingers massaged the knotted muscles in her daughters back, running her fingertips lightly down her spine as she let her long digits drum against the protruding joints of her daughter's spine as one might play a piano. Once her ministrations had calmed her daughter, transforming her hysterical sobs into quiet huffing breaths, Scarlet brushed away the remnants of her daughter's crying fit, pushing her daughter outward so she could view her daughter's face. "You have bared this burden well my daughter and now you need to rest."

The syllables of her mother's words sounded like notes, tender as they echoed in her ear, seducing Kori into the world of hazy surrealism. Her mother firmly grasped her hand and led her to the bed centered on the northern wall. Climbing onto the blanketed surface, Scarlet settled herself in the middle of the mattress, forming the pillows into a shape that would best support her frame. Once relaxed, her mother coerced her to follow her lead, crawling onto the mattress also before settling her head into her mother's folded lap, bending her knees comfortably near the sloping edge of the bed.

Silence formed around them, the air shifting and turning, cocooning them in a motionless peace, a quiet hush whispering in her ears instead of the rich babble of her thoughts. She remained unmoving, listening with shuddering fascination as the beats of her mother's heart vibrated in a fluid rhythm, her heart dancing to its tune. A peaceful hum echoed through the room, melodious notes falling from her mother's parted lips, the air following its dance as it trickled like a curving waterfall.

Her mother's nibble fingers slithered through her scarlet strands, twirling and twisting the tresses around her pale spidery digits, locks curling into thick swirling spirals. With every stroke, time chimed past, in slow steady beats as the hand of clock might move, precise and definitive. As the time progressed, her mother's humming had become soft singing, her notes never escaping the tune.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Her mother's heartbeat pounded in the insides of her ears, greedily swallowing the background noises that may have interrupted their sweet musical. A harmony flowed sinuously through the room, drenching everything with its peaceful aura as it seeped through the pores of their skin, sinking through the layers of muscle and tissue and embedding deep into the core of their souls. It gave the suggestion of perpetual motion, of eternal life, of an unwavering purity and sweetness and a promise to remain solely theirs.

Then her mother stopped. Her lips fastened closed, her flowing tune fading softly as the cords of her vocals fell to a rest. Their harmonious melody that she believed of eternal life died away in fading glimmers, a suffocating silence bleeding through the cracks of their peace. Her throat began to constrict, her muscles tightening around her breathing passage, preventing air from trickling into her lungs. She had somehow held the reins of her panic, focusing on the smooth motion of her mother's fingers, their blissful warmth as they combed through her hair, fingertips massaging her scalp.

"Mother is something—" Her question was never fully voiced as her mother's fingers abruptly stopped, blockade by a thin knot. Her mother roughly tugged it smooth, Kori's breath hitched from the slight stinging of pain.

"I am sorry to have worried you; I was musing through my thoughts, nothing of importance." A light airy quality highlighted her mother's tone, her smile quiet and unfocused, a mask in which she used only to hide her true sentiments.

"Something is plaguing you, mother. You cannot hide from me. Please tell me, what is worrying you so?" Her breath was shortening, a slight ragged pulse to its cadence as the air struggled in its downward descent to her lungs. Her vision adopted a slight blurring as white oozed into her sight; her mother's face beginning to haze at the edges of her jaw line.

"I was wondering why you stayed so silent about the diary. As child you were so open about your feelings, it seemed like I knew everything there was to know about you. Made some of the women so jealous they practically glowed green with envy every time I told them of your newest confession." She chuckled, chest rumbling as soft giggles fell from her lips. Gradually, her laughter lessened, her cupid bow curving into a tired pout. "Yet my bold spoken daughter managed to hide a great pain from me and I did not even have the slightest clue. I am a terrible mother."

Golden irises lost their distinct ringed edge, her mother's lily hued skin turned to an ashen gray. "I never told you mother because if I did your heart would break and you would try to place all the blame on your shoulders, like you are now." Kori's breaths turned into labored pants, her lungs crying out for the breeze of cool air rustling the window curtains. A cold chill slithered across the surface of her skin, nipping at her muscles as a numbing sensation tingled the tips of her fingers.

A sigh rippled from above her, her brief warning to the soft rustling of skirts as her mother leaned downward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. The warmth of her mother's kiss chased away the icy bite of the cold, flowing through her veins with renewed vigor.

"I was a blinded fool to not realize how wonderful of daughter I have." Scarlet whispered, her hair dangling from her shoulder in a crimson wave. Dazed eyes stared in an engrossed fashion as her daughter's delicate fingers captured the hanging strand, curling the lock with two fingers.

"Do you want me to sing again?" Emerald irises peered at her, a quiet sense of satisfaction framed inside her orbs, more than an appropriate response Scarlet was expecting.

Her mother's mouth parted, sweet notes slipping from her lips, once more a harmonious melody encircling them, a sense of peace resonating in their souls. Contently gratified, Kori found her eyelids weighted with fatigue, a yawn tumbling from her rose hued lips. At first she struggled in fruitless attempt to remain conscious, her eyelids hovering between the states of clarity and muddled shadows, however with a subtle hint of spite her eyelids lowered with every calming breath and in moments she was consumed by the realm of sleep.

Kori awoke to her mother's humming, tranquilly pulsing as the waves of an ocean would lap the sandy edge of a beach.

"Good morning. Or should I say good evening?" Scarlet greeted Kori warmly as her daughter's fluttering eyelashes revealed pensive emerald orbs. An unladylike grunt vibrated against Kori's mouth as she battled with her sore muscles, raising her tired form to lean her weight against her slender arm, her other hand preoccupied by the brushing away of tangled tresses obstructing her fogged vision.

"How long did I sleep?" Kori inquired, accepting the steaming glass of tea in her mother's out stretched hands. Delicately, Kori sipped the heated liquid, patiently waiting for her mother's reply.

"Not very long, less than an hour. Do you want something to eat?" Kori mutely nodded her head in answer, greedily sipping the warm liquid as it soothed the building irritation in her throat.

With the grace only rivaled by a goddess, her mother slipped her slender frame off the goose feather mattress, gliding her feet across the wooden floor and to the door's entrance. As if aware of their brief conversation, a maid appeared in the doorway, her mother unsurprised listed off her request. The woman gave her mother a deep bow and flawlessly executed the command for in the span of less than hour she returned, a tray of warm scones securely in her grasp before sauntering away without a word.

The scones were quick to be devoured, the most befitting snack to fill their bellies this time of night. The maid once more appeared, exuding unbridled joy at the empty tray as it was handed to her by Scarlet, presenting the women two graceful bows as she exited with the empty tray in hand, a step of delight noticeable in her tapping footsteps.

Undoubtedly alone, a hushed silence fell between the two women, hoots from owls ringing the panes of Kori's open window. A single glance was all need for Scarlet to see the forming questions in her daughter's eyes, the inquires that for the span of ten years, chewing away at her conscious.

"If you have questions ask. You were never one to remain silent before and I won't expect anything less now." Kori's mouth twitched into a smile, a mirthful laugh dancing merrily in beryl depths.

"As you wish, mother."

X-x-X

The day had been unpredictably warm, easily tiring her changing form, resulting in the direct orders of bed rest by her mother (whom had suffered bearing a child throughout one of the worst summers recorded and knew of the effects of intense heat on the impregnated body on an intimate level). Her only worry was to remain a stable cool, something Scarlet had found not as easy as it was spoken.

It was in the least a bore to lay around with nothing to do and she found that in times like these nasty habits liked to resurface, such as of right now her hand was resting on her stomach, for the time still impressively toned. It was very much a normal habit for a woman in their pregnancy to develop and she had often seen it when she was younger, a rather intimate close touch that she came to admire. Yet when she committed the action, she began to contemplate her situation, questioning the reality of it, foolishly convincing herself that her plaguing nightmares that disturbed her night sleep were only fictitious dreams, influenced by her imagination and admiration of long winded novels. And as always, she was proved horrible wrong every morning as her dinner revisited her once again in an unappealing form of vomit, a constant reminder of her condition.

Two months had passed, such a short span of time and already her perfect façade had threatened to crack. Nightmares haunted her conscious, harmless conversations with her peers stabbed at her heart, certain phrases echoing so vehemently she had to excuse herself to mask the onslaught of tears and quivering sobs that would overcome her body. As reluctantly as she was to admit it, she was beginning to fall apart, her heart the first to begin the slow process of unraveling control.

One night, her nightmare had been so horrifyingly vivid, so despairingly real; she awoke abruptly, her throat irritated and parched as screams carried from the cavern of her mouth, tears streaking furiously down her cheeks. Her breathing came out from her flaring nostrils in labored pants, fear flooding the blood of her veins, chilling the marrow of her bones and the tips of her fingers. His eyes had been there, hovering in the darkness of her eyelids, his bright emerald irises peering at her with twisted joy, adulation staining his vibrant orbs with lust induced shadows.

Tears of crystal slithered down the curve of her cheek, her moans and sobs slipping from her lips as she spiraled painfully out of control, gripping for her sanity in the murky gloom of dusk.

The creak of the door resonated throughout the room, overpowering her muffled whimpers where she swore she could hear the faint whisper of a curse. Her voice trembling, she called out for the person who stood behind the swinging wooden contraption, faintly agitated she could not find the presence of confidence in her voice.

Whoever was hiding followed her orders promptly, the door opening with gentleness as her eyes deciphered the familiar silhouette of her brother. He was clothed in his morning clothes, a white ruffled shirt concealed by a blue vest, an illuminating pattern embroidered in its silk fabric. A pair of brown trousers completed the outfit, his feet bare of his normal leather boots. At first she hesitated, mortification changing her flushed cheeks to the hue of a cherry, before she tentatively lifted her head, allowing her brother a view of her sorrow face.

Amber eyes were revealed under the soft rays of moonlight, illuminating his face in whispering tendrils, the shadows dancing like a crackling fire. In his orbs, there was not a trace of his spark of humor, his main attribute that attracted women to him like bees to honey or the rough crooked smile that had made many hearts swoon. Instead, his orbs held a somber expression, his lips pulled into an uncharacteristic scowl, unfitting of his robust and buoyant personality.

"Ah I fear I entered the wrong room, though I could have sworn this was the kitchen." His tone held a lull, tremors accented by tenebrous notes concealing his wistful accents he had been blessed with since the day their mother taught him to speak.

"I suggest brother you should begin to watch your alcohol consummation. If you continue at this rate, you will begin to lose whatever intelligence you have left, which I remind is not very big proportion to start." The corners of his lips curved upward, an expression of his amusement.

"And your tongue is still as sharp as ever." He replied, the retort falling from his tongue with ease. Her lips also adopted a one-sided curve, amusement flickering in her eyes for but a moment.

"How long have you known?" His smile faded, the upward curve of his lips rippling in a downward frown.

"Long enough to know that you are suffering and I cannot help you." As she mulled over the statement, he turned, in the motion to recede into the hallway when he stopped for a brief second. "But whatever it might be sister, I hope you will not let it overcome the women I have come to affectionately love as my sibling. That would the biggest shame of them all." With conclusiveness in his tone, he disappeared in the hallway, abandoning her with her irrepressible thoughts.

Over the next eventful weeks after her encounter with brother, as one might predict, the news of her pregnancy spread rapidly and she had no shortage of visitors who came to wish her much happiness and health, though she knew their interest lay in digging for any scandalous secrets she might hold. And when someone was rumored to come sweeping through their town, more unfortunate and immorally intriguing then her, it gave her a sense of relief as she was not the target of gossipers.

The day of the visitor's arrival started out as any other morning. She had immediately awoken to the churning of her belly as it began to twist into knots. In a conditioned state, she hurried to the bathroom, revisiting her supper from the previous night in its most unsightly form. After a good washing of her mouth in order to remove the lingering sickening taste from her tongue, she returned to her alluring bed, exhausted with a hollowed belly. With her mind depleted of all energy and the covers of her mattress weighing down on her form with an inviting warmth, she feel to sleep with ease, gruesome nightmares hovering at the frayed edges of her heart.

Hours ticked slowly past on the face of her clock as she slumbered in the peaceful realm of worriless dreams only to be roused by the careless opening of her door. Through her vision's misted haze, she recognized her brother's frame in the empty hallowing of the doorway, the skin of his hands painted with dark bruises, given to him by her during one of their training sessions.

Pale fingers wound through thick tresses of crimson hair as she lifted her lithe form into an upright position. Removing the vestige of her glorious but short nap from the inward corners of her eyes, her brother's orbs captured her focus. His honey hued irises held their familiar spark of mirth, however as she studied closer she could see the glow of animated excitement, the winding tension in his shoulders, knuckles ashen against the engraved doorknob.

"He's here!" True anticipation laced his rather boisterous voice and Scarlet could tell that he fancied being somewhere else right this moment, some place that must have been more important than waking her from her sleep.

Her mind started to consider the possibilities that could entice her brother to be so overjoyed and her fearful mind came to the conclusion it was a seducing woman. With the threat of a headache, she narrowed her eyes at her brother though it failed to curve any of his bubbling joy.

It was a far under exaggeration to say that Scarlet was not apprehensive. She had seen how horribly scandalous her brother's affairs could turn and with the extreme show of blatant joy, she could just imagine how disastrously wrong this was going to turn.

"Who is she?" Scarlet demanded directly, her eyes never shifting from her brother's frame, his body quivering subconsciously with unrestrained eagerness.

His lips pulled into a frown at the commanding question. "Why is it when I am joyous over anything you are quick to accuse me of floundering around with a woman?"

Scarlet refused the urge to raise her eyebrow at her brother's ridiculous question. "Do you not remember Genevieve Lock?"

The expression on her brother's face was one she would cherish in her memories until the time of her death. His jaw tightened, his eyes dashed to study his poorly groomed fingernails, his face in a deep frown. She had caught him by his tail and he knew it.

Shaking off his negative reactions, he persistently tried to get his message across to his sister whom was glowing with triumph. "Despite your suspicions, no it does not have anything to do with a woman. I do not have the time to explain to you in precise detail at this moment. However, right now you need to hurry and get dressed. It is about to start soon I will not be late just because of your silly woman fancies." With no further word, he lifted himself off the door, which moments ago he had been casually leaning, disappearing into the hallway where his form was obscured by the haunting of darkness

Seeing that she had no choice but to submit to her brother's demand, Scarlet called for two of her best maids to help her dress. She would not be a liar and say that she particularly enjoyed wearing her dresses. Her mother always designed them, resulting in the corsets to be too tight and the maids had a nasty habit of pulling the strings taunt, leaving her little room to collect her breathe. The layers of petticoats they had to tie around her waist were tremendously heavy and the maids had always tried to ruse her into wearing more than necessary. And as she dressed they refused to quiet their mouths as they gossiped on about the current fashion and other nameless subjects not worth her time remembering. It was even more difficult task now with her stomach, even though it lay flat, it was showing the beginning stages of rounding, something that deeply opposed the rigidity of her corset.

Before she had the chance to call off the exasperating maids, they began the normal routine of curling her long crimson strands before they began to pin in into a twisting bun. After they had pinned her hair into their liking, they began to thread pale lilies through her sculpted crimson tresses. The hair process was finished when they placed a gold dusted bonnet, correlating with her shimmering metallic dress.

Holding her down with an unbearably strong grip, they began to apply her usual make up, a beautiful tinted lipstick and a light dusting of gold powder to her eyelids, with the intent to brighten her irises.

Hurried by her brother's irking statements, she watched as the maids quickly slipped on her stocking and shoes, something she could not have done herself because of the layers and layers of petticoats that had ambushed her waist. Once she was deemed appropriate for public view, she hurriedly thundered down the staircase, traveled through several rooms of the house before she managed to find the vestibule in which her brother was impatiently waiting. At the sight of her arrival, he quickly fled through the door, expecting her to follow his rushed steps.

He waited for her outside as Scarlet closed the door of their grand house behind her before he stepped upon the barren road, the dirt and dust that accumulated from years of carriages traveling over the cobble stones swirled under his heavy steps. Scarlet followed him silently, thankful for the mysterious lack of crowds as she hurried to close the distance between her brother and her.

As to be expected, nothing remained effortless when it was associated with Scarlet. Once they turned the corner they had entered onto the street Moonlight Walk. It was the street that at some point in every one of the town's habitants day, the denizens had strolled along, despite what their tasks or business may be. Its name had been earned by the way the road was illuminated in silver under the tender rays of the moon in the late hours of the night, the road transforming into a ribbon of pearl.

As she had expected, the moment they caught sight of the street it was bustling with signs of large crowds. Nevertheless, Scarlet was not prepared for the throng of people that had migrated onto the narrow road, people of all ages and genders had mingled themselves in the large crowd, bonnets colorful and noticeable through the hundreds of citizens.

Her brother continued to travel on, navigating through the people, having little sympathy for his pregnant sister who was struggling to squeeze between the individuals as he guided her to some unknown location. Yet by small amount of empathy from the Lord, she had managed to stay on her brother's trail, in which she had fully caught up when he paused in his journey as they both sighted their parents and her husband-to-be and his respected family.

Having a clear sight of their destination, Scarlet continued to follow her brother, maneuvering between men and women who had repulsed her path. Noticing his wife's-to-be distress, John reached out his hand and once in distance, Scarlet managed to grab hold of it, where he effortlessly pulled her to his side.

As a thank you to his kindness, Scarlet gave John a soft peck on his cheek, quickly pulling away with a smile. Her curiosity had once again piqued as she casted her gaze to the crowded public garden, wondering what could be so exponentially important that the entire populace had to be present. When nothing plausible came to mind, she began to search for hints or clues, anything that would lead her to the answer. Her search was futile. All she had found was the event was so great that every political leader, noble lords, dukes and army royals were present. The only time she had seen so many important figures gathered in one area was in the event of an election. However, Scarlet knew the next election had been confirmed to be two years away and no sooner.

"Mon mari, do you know what is happening? It must be of importance because I can see General Raul." General Raul was the man whom did not attend any social event unless absolutely necessary. Whatever was going to perspire here, it must have been so important that it even lured out the stubborn General.

John, as expected, had heard her question, for she had whispered into his ear, and he had turned his attention from the stage, to his lovely wife-to-be whoms gold eyes were brightened a hypnotizing shade of confusion.

"Do you know who the man they call Paul Wayne is?" His baritone voice was deep, shimmering with knowledge that it had taken all of her will to stop her head from leaning at an angle that would allow their mouths to brush.

"He is the leader of the rumored band of pirates called Hades's Soldiers. So I believe." Scarlet would not go as far as to proclaim herself an expert in the matter but through snippets of gossip at parties she was not unfamiliar to the name. What she had always noted were the people who were more or less brave enough to speak the name all held the same tremor of fear, as if by just vocally pronouncing the name it would lead them straight down the road of hell.

"Do you know how they were christened with the name, my lovely?" Scarlet took a moment to collect all the small amounts of information she had heard about the group, digging deeper into the banks of her memory than she ever thought.

"Once I overheard a man talking about one of their raids at our party. He was sitting in the back corner, discussing it with one of the army lieutenants about how they had raided one of the King's ships and he had been out to inspect it. He said with the exception of the dead bodies they could not find a single trace of evidence. There was no weapons, no footprints, not even a single cannon hole in the deck. There was simply nothing. He told the man the only way he could identify that it was the Hade's Soldiers doing was because written on wall in blood was the message "For those who seek what is rightfully hers, they shall perish at my hand".

John gazed upon her with gentle eyes and she had known instantaneously that she had been correct in her reply. "You are truly knowledgeable, ma femme." His tone had softened; fluttering butterflies feverishly brushing their wings, tickling the insides of her belly.

Yet all her husband's-to-be questioning had only left her burning with more curiosity, her mind brewing with more inquiries. "I am ecstatic over your praises, my love; however I have failed to see how that has anything to do with the current event going on." To emphasis her point, Scarlet had signaled to the crowd surrounding them, murmuring and whispering with anticipation embedded deeply in their shoulders.

Leaning close to the shell of her ear, John whispered his reply to Scarlet, who had heard her brother proclaim a similar statement earlier. "They have caught him." Her expression was the least to say baffled until she comprehended the words full meaning in which she had to bite her lip to prevent her jaw from hanging open in such a rude manner.

The moment she had rediscovered her voice, did she dare speak the new questions that had formulated in her mind. "How? I heard many rumors that he is a wonderful weapons fighter and he has not ever been seen by a single soul or at least one who has lived long enough to tell the tale."

John had predicted that this question would be asked and had already rehearsed the answer in good time. "Do not hold me to the validity; you never know when Edmund Burgundy chooses to lie to you. Half a year's trip up the ocean, there is another little island beside us called Devil's Isle." For an odd second, John paused in his speech, pulling out his pocket watch and glancing at its ticking clock, before replacing it in its lapel and resetting his gaze upon her.

"We have to make this quick I am afraid. After going through several dictatorships and revolutions, the people of Devil's Isle demanded a tighter security once the democracy was established. To fulfill the peoples' wish, the government funded for the building of large fortress walls around the village and recruited and trained men for a new defense army. Outside these gates are posted two guards and their duty is to record every traveler who enters the city, their name and their appearance. No one knows why he went there, maybe he was searching for another ship to raid, however Paul Wayne went to this town and as the guards duty they recorded his appearance and his name. Having heard the rumors themselves, the guards got a messenger to give the information they recorded to the most powerful official on their island who then was instructed to send it to the King of England."

"Once the telegram had been sent through, the King also became suspicious that this man could possibly be Paul Wayne the notoriously rumored captain of Hades's Soldiers. He knew that if he didn't act fast that he would lose the man and quickly called all his most trusted military figures. The King then informed them of what had happened and had ordered them to tell every head figure in the country and islands and that whomever caught Wayne would earn a hefty reward. After every head figure had been informed, they in turn informed their armies and told them their main concern was to find this man and capture him alive. Not even a week later, they had spotted him in our sister town, Condor. They of course captured him and some of my men were then brought down there to question him. He had admitted to being who we believed him to be. He did not brag about his crimes, they said he just kept silent, answering most the questions they asked him. The King had then ordered him to be brought back to England to be punished properly but then came the outbreak of another revolution. With his hands full he had demand Condor to do it. However, as we all know the Condor government is great admirers of neutrality and refused to do the deed. So they sent him to us, after receiving the approval of the King."

"It's about to start." John quietly informed her after he had finished his speech, turning his attention once more to the stage in front of the crowd. The crowd must have also known the execution was about to begin for the whispers that had once fluttered around the people had faded to a deep silence, dripping with tension.

From the stairs built in the left side of the theater stage, three men stepped heavily onto the platform, easily visible to everyone, as their heavy footsteps echoed in the silence. Capes of midnight fluttered against the ankles of two of the outer men and part of her hopelessly waited for the sky to darken and extend to their rustling cloaks. They were the executioners, a gruesome job that had lead people to shun them and refer to them as the messengers of death. While Scarlet held sympathy for them, she could not deny the fact that she had felt the numbing chill whenever she had been in ones presence.

No one was able to see the man in between until they had made it to the wooden box placed in the center of the stage, resting below the portable hanging rope that had taken only few mens' lives before him. There they had roughly shoved him onto the box, gripping his forearms in their large beefy hands as they stood perched by his side as if they were crows waiting patiently for the unfortunate carcass they were going to have their meal.

Her mouth quivered, her eyes widened, her voice trembled as she spoke nonsensical words. Her knees became weak and she tightly gripped her husband's-to-be arm as she struggled to hold herself upright. For there, standing on an elevated box, was the man who had haunted her dreams, who had left her begging for mercy in the middle of the night, impregnated with a child.

His hands and feet were bound by heavy chains as if he was nothing more than a common beast that needed to be controlled. His hair that had been so luxuriously beautiful and long was ragged, clumps of dirt and blood dripping from his ratted strands, his hair cut murderously short. His clothing which had been magnificent and gloriously attractive were soiled by his own blood, wounds had been left to heal by their own natural process. His face, once that glowed with a godly presence was layered with grime, fine thin scratches marring the smooth skin of his cheeks.

The only thing that had remotely refused to change their disposition was his eyes. Under the bright rays of the sun, they shimmered as if held under a lamp of a jeweler as if he presenting her his life. She could sense nothing she would have expected of a death row prisoner. There was no regret, or fear, or pain, or sadness but only the odd glimmer of hope, as if the very sight of her could bring him joy.

To this she couldn't tell you how he had managed to miraculously locate her through the thick crowd of people. Yet, with all his mysterious skills, he had done it and the moment he had caught sight of her form, his gaze became unwavering, as if he simply did not have the ability to look away from her. His attentions were not even distracted as the executioners slipped the circled rope around his neck and tugged it so sharply he almost lost his footing and fell from the box.

After everything was secure, their current representative of their island started to climb the stage, calmly sidling so the incriminated pirate had a clear view of his back. It was a ploy, a tactic in which he was using to taunt the man behind him. Their representative was by all standards the classic politician. He was short in stature with unnecessary large belly brought on by the luxurious food he was eating from day to day. To safely turn his back on one of the notoriously vicious men in all of history without fear of death had meant his reign of power was declining. If Paul Wayne was in the at least upset by this, she could not tell for his eyes remained emotional barricaded.

"My fellow citizens, today I present to you the man that has brought your husbands' early and unnecessary deaths, who has robbed you of your happiness, has stolen your peace and has terrorized you and your families for years. He is the creature of your nightmares. His deeds are numerous, each one more treacherous from the ones before. He has sunk innocent ships, massacred people of all ages and gender just for the simple reason of sick twisted pleasure-" The representative's speech, which captivated the audience, was disrupted by the smooth voice of the incarcerated man behind the him, Wayne's eyes flickering to the aging old man that stood mockingly in front of him.

"It seems your informants are incorrect for I never have killed a single woman or child." His voice was identical to her dreams, as smooth as velvet, and as sweet as honey freshly drilled from a maple tree. It sent spiraling shivers down her back as she pressed tighter to her husband-to-be, hoping that his soothing presence could destroy the lurking shadows in her mind.

It was not necessary for her to lift her head upwards and see that his gaze was once again, unwaveringly glued to her form. Wrapping her arms tighter around the arm of her husband-to-be, she focused on the side of his face as he intently stared as the scene before him unraveled.

No one in the crowd seemed to notice how the criminal's deep gaze rested only on a single person in the crowd, however, the representative, who was facing the incriminated prisoner, could see signs that something was wrong. For a moment, when Wayne had interrupted his speech, his orbs were turned to his; bright flames of green emeralds that made him squirm in his skin, scorching the muscles and tissue underneath. However, not even a moment later after he had closed his mouth and refused to speak any longer, his eyes transferred to the crowd, staring intently in one specific place. With his curiosity piqued, the representative followed the man's gaze carefully and discovered with horror that he was staring at their island princess, Scarlet.

From the distance, he could see her mouth trembling in tiny whispers as she clutched onto her husband's-to-be arm tightly, on the verge of letting beautiful crystal tears fall from her cheeks. John, who had been attempting to restrain himself from wrapping Scarlet in his arms and carrying her away, could not bear it anymore. Enfolding his arm around his wife's-to-be petite waist, he clutched her tight to his chest, whispering gently in her ear. She continued to shake, whimpering in undecipherable words, pressing herself as close as possible to John.

The representative was livid. Not only had the man destroyed hundreds of their ships in the last decades but dare look at their most beloved woman on the island, a crime in its self. Clearing his throat, the representative nodded his head, a signal to the executioners to carry out the sentence. With extreme joy, the executioners kicked the box with leering smiles from under the pirate's feet, the tangled rope tightening around his throat.

In a sea of gasps and screams, Scarlet raised her gaze. Slowly, she watched with the crowd as the life began to slip from her first lover, crystal tears winding down her cheeks.

Author's Notes: Another version of the chapter I kinda maybe actually take some joy in. Sad I know, it took me years to do it but hey it's done. A few notes.

1. You might notice in the passage that John and Scarlet call each other mon mari and ma femme. Those are French for my husband and my wife yet I continue to use husband-to-be and wife-to-be, my substitute for fiancé and fiancée (I do not know if they used those terms back then). Scarlet and John are not married yet for the execution happens before their wedding but think of each other as already married.

Chapter Two Timeline:

October 31 1855

The Anders holds their annual masquerade party at their residence. In her search for looking for a waiter in which to refill her glass, Scarlet sees one of her fiancé's generals and another man she doesn't recognize sitting in chairs placed by the corner. Silently, she sneaks to where they are and over hears the general explaining to the man one of the Hades's Soldiers recent raids. He states that not a single weapon was found, neither a cannon or cannon hole, and written on a wall in blood was the message "For those who seek what is rightfully hers, they shall perish at my hand".

March 6 1856

Paul Wayne is recorded and drawn by the guards outside the fortress walls of Devil's Isle, an island known for their tight security. Quickly becoming suspicious they send a messenger to find the island's most powerful politician in which he is to send the information to the King of England.

March 7 1856

The King of England receives a telegram of the information that Devil's Isle collected. The King of England gathers his most trustworthy military figures of all the lands in the kingdom and informs him on the events that had just occurred. They, by order, inform their authority figures in every town to make it their top priority to search for Paul Wayne.

March 14 1856

Paul Wayne is seen in Condor and is arrested there. Bringing in a few military soldiers from Hope Isle they question Paul Wayne and he admits being the Captain of the vicious band of pirates the Hades's Soldiers and other heinous crimes. He is to be sent to England but with another outbreak of a revolution, the King commands that Condor hold the execution. They refuse, stating they chose neutrality and granted by the King he is sent to Scarlet's town to receive his sentence.

April 24 1856

Paul Wayne is hung in Ville de la Lune (Scarlet's town), accused of the several cases of raiding the ships of Great Britain, massacring hundreds of sailors, and the attempted assassination of Lord John Hunt.

May 18 1863

On a rainy day, young Kori Anders wandered into their family library, seeking a book to pass the time. When reaching for a book on one of the upper shelves, she accidentally drops it. About to descend the ladder to pick it up, Kori sees part of book hidden behind another on the shelf. Reaching out she grabs the hidden book and it is revealed to be her mother's diary.

August 19 1873

Kori Andrews is visited by her mother in her room, her mother's intent on telling her the truth of her birth. After sighting her diary on her daughter's vanity, Scarlet demands of her daughter on how she found the book, when she found the book and three times asked if she read it. After Kori's confession the two spill their true innermost feelings and Scarlet reveals to Kori the fate of the man who raped her in which Kori learns the identity of the man, Paul Wayne.