A/N: This was going to be part of a war drabble series that I've taken down.
Blood and Iron
She sees it as he kisses her—barely-visible on his arm, but there, all the same. Grotesque.
"What's wrong?" he asks, not noticing in which way her eyes are traveling.
"Nothing," she lies, not completely surprised.
"Mm-hmmm," he says, not completely believing. "You can tell me, you know, love." But she can't—can't tell him about the snake twisting 'round his wrist and the poison in his veins. So she says, "Alright" and refuses to meet his eyes.
It's almost as though his snake has come to life and strangled her.