Part VIII: 24 AWSS

The Icewings successfully repelled the invading tribes away from the Ice Capital and south of the Icewall. As the battle raged outside the city, though, another raged inside. Afraid that they would sympathize with the invaders and restore the monarchy, the Icewings in the capital raided several prisons and killed dozens of former nobles and pro-monarchy advocates that were being held there. The Second Assembly, now almost completely under the control of Blizzard and his radicals, did nothing to stop the bloodshed. Once the enemy had been pushed back, these radicals felt secure enough to take this bloodshed to the one they wanted to see dead most of all: the ex-queen Snowfall. Just four months after the Icewing monarchy was eliminated, Snowfall was put on trial before the Assembly and found guilty of treason.

The light gleamed off the execution blade with a fierce intensity. Suspended about ten feet off the ground by a wooden frame and ropes, the force of its fall once released would sever the head of any dragon that was slated to be killed. Today, that dragon was Snowfall.

Hellebore had never been a big fan of the monarchy—few seventh-circle Icewings were—but she had doubts about getting rid of it altogether, and she was definitely worried about what the effects of executing their former monarch altogether would be. In the past few years, she had done her best to avoid all the revolutionary activity altogether. She hadn't taken part in the food riots, the various protests, or the assault on the palace a few months ago. The only reason she was even here, surrounded by a crowd of bloodthirsty dragons cheering for the head of a queen, was because her friend Shiver had absolutely insisted. Her friend was an adamant supporter of the Second Assembly and was always pushing her to get involved with these things. Hellebore had always been able to make excuses and get out of it until today. Her philosophy was just to keep her head down and do her best not to lose it.

…Like Snowfall was about to lose hers.

Shiver jostled her wing to get her attention and pointed to the blade in the center of the capital's square. A second later, the blade fell with a metallic screech and thumped into a block of wood below. Snowfall had yet to arrive, and it seemed as though the executioners were simply testing the machine. Their demonstration left little to the imagination as to what would happen to Snowfall once she arrived.

Shiver jostled her wing again and began rambling on and on about the device and how it worked. It was apparently a rather new invention called a headslasher, but all the killings it had been doing in its short existence had earned it a nickname: the national blade. Hellebore didn't quite know what to think about such an instrument being directly associated with the new government, but she knew she didn't like it. Shiver, on the other talon, seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, and Hellebore definitely knew what she thought about that.

As the blade was raised back up, Hellebore couldn't help but wonder for the thousandth time how she had let herself end up here in this crowd of dragons. She and Shiver were both barely even seven, practically still dragonets, and much too young, in Hellebore's opinion, to be taking part in such things. Of course, the Dragonets of Destiny had done great things at a younger age than her, but this was different, and everything seemed to be happening far too fast for her liking.

Once again, she was jostled out of her musings, but not by Shiver. A large male Icewing, at least ten years her elder, loomed over her with a sneer. Before she could even ask what the matter was, the larger Icewing growled out, "Where are your colors?"

She stood there speechless for a second, scared and confused. She didn't have any colors; she was just a white Icewing like practically every other dragon in the crowd.

"What…" she started to say before the other dragon cut her off.

"You're not wearing any colors," the other dragon said, practically yelling at her, "What are you, some sort of royalist?"

It was then that Hellebore realized that he meant the revolutionary colors. The Second Assembly had adopted a tricolor banner as their flag made up of the colors red, blue, and white, which had become a symbol of the revolution. Just about every dragon in the crowd was wearing these colors in some way or another, mostly as a band around their arms or as a type of hat that was held secure by their head's horns. Hellebore hadn't ever gotten one (even though Shiver was always pushing her to) and so she wasn't wearing anything.

"I…I…" Hellebore stuttered, trying to think of something to say. The other dragon continued to fix her with a venomous glare.

Luckily, Shiver noticed her predicament (along with several other nearby dragons) and jumped in to help.

"She left her hat at home," Shiver lied, "She was just so excited that it slipped her mind, it happens to her all the time," She took off her hat and handed it to Hellebore, "Here, take mine you forgetful revolutionary, you."

Hellebore slowly put it on. It took her a few tries to match the hat's holes to her horns, but by the time it was on, the other dragon had ambled away, apparently satisfied with Shiver's response. Hellebore gave Shiver a very grateful look.

"I told you to get a hat," Shiver said with a slight grin.

"Here, you can have yours back now. That other guy is gone," Hellebore said as she started to take the hat off and return it, but Shiver stopped her.

"I have an armband on," she said, "…and I don't want to have to save you again. It's easier this way."

Hellebore was just opening her mouth to say thanks again when they heard cheering coming from a short distance off. Their former queen was on her way.

Hellebore hadn't known exactly what to expect from the former monarch of the Icewings, though she had some ideas of what this moment might seem like. She'd imagined a dragon full of self-assurance and confidence, every inch a queen despite her situation. She'd pictured a dragon that held her head high through the jeers and refused to give her executioners the satisfaction of seeing her afraid, a dragon that may even silence the crowd with her dignity and grace.

She definitely hadn't been expecting the sight that met her as the queen came into view.

Flanked by at least four soldiers, a single female Icewing walked alone, head bowed low and eyes closed. She seemed to have a sort of nervous tremor through her body, and she flinched as objects were thrown at her from the crowd. She gave an air of tiredness, as though she'd been walking through this same crowd for years. The dragon that Hellebore saw didn't look proud or regal, rather, she looked like a dragon that had been utterly defeated in every way and was about be defeated once more. As she watched Snowfall approach the headslasher, she couldn't help but pity her former ruler.

Their procession to the execution machine took only a few minutes, and soon Snowfall and the guards stopped just a few feet away. The executioner stepped forewords and said a few words to the former queen, then motioned back to where another dragon sat next to the headslasher. This dragon approached, carrying a pair of what appeared to massive shears. One of the guards jerked Snowfall's head down roughly, and the second dragon began using the shears to cut some of the horns on Snowfall's head.

Confused, Hellebore turned to Shiver and asked why they were doing this. Shiver explained that it was to keep the horns from interfering with the blade's fall so that the cut could be made cleanly. If it were to catch on the horns instead, the blade's momentum may be lost, and the head would not be completely severed. Hellebore thought that that made sense, although she also though that having one's horns cut off before execution was needlessly degrading for an Icewing. As she looked back on the now hornless Snowfall, the awkward appearance that it gave off was more than enough to make her hope that she would never have hers cut.

This task now completed, Snowfall was led to the base of the machine. She took a look at the blade hanging high above her, then gazed out at the crowd. Drums began to beat as the executioner approached his position. Snowfall began to address the crowd, presumably to give one final speech, but Hellebore couldn't hear her over the sound of the crowd and the drums. As she was still speaking—Hellebore could see her mouth moving—one of the soldiers grabbed her neck and lowered it into its place on the machine as another secured her position. The guards then backed away and gave nods to the executioner.

Hellebore turned away as the executioner loosed the blade.

She heard the screech of the blade as it fell.

She heard the dulled thump as the blade did its job.

Then all she heard was the cheers of the crowd.

A/N: Now that I've breached the 10,000 word mark on this story, I feel confident enough to make a short note (something which it seems most Fanfiction authors are quite fond of doing). To begin, this story is meant as a historical parallel between Pyrrhia and the real world. Each chapter seeks to capture a moment in history in the eyes of a common man (or, rather, dragon). The same character(s) may appear in multiple chapters as the story progresses, but each chapter will focus on the POV of a different dragon each time. You've probably already figured that out by now, but I just wanted to say it so you'd know for sure.

Anyway, if you're reading this, then you probably have read a decent chunk of this story and are at least somewhat interested or entertained by it. That said, feel free to fav/follow/review if you enjoyed and want to read more. If not, then that's fine too; I know I've failed to do the same to many good stories I've read, so I won't hold it against you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Wings of Fire