Euphemie waited in the dark.

She had long ago lost count of the days. There were only shadows now; she was shackled in a place so deep beneath the earth it seemed it was to become her tomb. The damp and the cold made her shiver, the drip drip drip of a leak in the ceiling endless enough to drive her mad. Worst of all, her finery had been replaced with the rough garment of a prisoner. Her bright hair was unkempt and matted, her green eyes dull, her thin face sallow. Her makeup had not survived that first rough bath they had given her, to cleanse her of sin (to cleanse her of dignity).

Euphemie had been exposed, trembling. Scrubbed violently, dressed in scratchy clothes, a shackle placed upon each limb, a final one heavy around her neck. 

She did not want to think about the filth that now crawled its way over her body. She did not want to think of anything at all. Perhaps if she closed her eyes and huddled tight in the corner, she could stay in the dark until she died and avoid whatever execution awaited her. 

Too late for that, sang a voice in her head. It did not belong to her, nor to Leopold, but to Lady Rosa, her first master. You’ve really done it now.

Perhaps Lady Rosa was waiting for her. Euphemie did not want to think about it. All she could do was hope they would let her rot down here, instead of making her answer for what she had done.

You grew careless, sang the voice of Lady Rosa in her mind. Poisoning her so brazenly.

What was Euphemie to do? Leopold had grown tired of her. On his lips every day was Margaret, Margaret, Margaret. How interesting Margaret had become, how steady, how cruel. The former saintess had become a wolf. Compared to her Euphemie was a mere dog, scrounging for scraps as it imagined itself a sly fox.

He was going to throw Euphemie away to get Margaret back. And so Euphemie had to make the first move, so there would be no more Margaret to want. 

It… had not gone well.

At least now she no longer had to worry about what Leopold thought. She would be forgotten now, in the dark and damp.

Or so she thought.

The first spark of light in what must have been months was as dim as the moon on a clouded night. It hurt her eyes to look at, as though it were brighter than the sun. Euphemie squinted.

A woman stood before her, face half visible behind the bars of Euphemie’s cell. But Euphemie would recognize that silver hair and silver eye color anywhere, even hidden as it was under a heavy cloak.

“Margaret,” she rasped. 

“You,” said Margaret. She stepped close enough to press a hand against the bar, her other gripping that bright lantern. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Euphemie tried to muster the energy to speak, but nothing was left in her. Instead she nodded.

“You’re wrong,” Margaret said, though she couldn’t have heard Euphemie’s thoughts. “You’re not here because you failed to poison me. You’ve done that before.”

Euphemie shut her eyes, for the lamp was too bright. “Then…” she gasped, “…then…why?”

“You’re here because there is no good in you,” Margaret said. “You’re here because given the chance you would torment me. You would tear me from my home and those I love, until I would lose everything. Until I would see death as a merciful escape.”

Euphemie wished she could curl up and hide. But there was nowhere in the cell the light could not touch. She glanced at her hands, at their callouses. A rich lady like Margaret had none. Euphemie’s had never faded, not even when Prince Leopold had saved her from that awful place.

“Even now you won’t look at me and face what you’ve done,” Margaret said. “But what more could I expect from you?” 

Euphemie half expected her to reach her hand through the bars and tug at her hair, to slam her hand against it. Instead she merely watched, eyes frozen with fury.

“A spiteful creature like you is beyond redemption,” Margaret finally said. “Like an old dog who won’t stop biting its master, the best thing for you is to be put down.”

She turned and strode from the room without another word, leaving Euphemie in the cold, empty blackness once more. 

Laying upon her side, she curled herself into a ball. Maybe now she would be left in peace.

No such thing existed. 

Huddled as she was in the darkness, Euphemie had lost all sense of time. It might have been a few hours or a few days or a few years after Lady Margaret’s visit that the echo of footsteps reached Euphemie’s ears. This time she was not spoken to; she heard the rough screech of her cell bars, and two pairs of hands tore her from the ground, pausing only a moment to remove her shackles so she could be moved.

She was half carried, half dragged down the hall, pulled too fast to get any footing, until the darkness gave way to light, and the prison melted into a grand courtyard. Then she was taken further, out a great archway, beneath a gate, on a wooden bridge over a moat.

Ah. She recognized this place. 

The old, square castle with its dusty courtyard, antiquated compared to the modern manors and palaces of the empire. The endless black bowels of such a historic place, where you forgot who you had been and who you were going to be. The very scent of the dust. Like salt, but with a strange acidity that burned the nose.

Despite her exhaustion, she began to tremble. 

When the Holy Empire had annexed the Kingdom of Lavender. When it had invaded her home. When it. When it had. When...

“It seems you already know what’s coming,” said one of the men, as they brought her to the middle of a clearing.

Euphemie blinked. Oh. Were they executing her, then? Why do it here, rather than in the courtyard proper? Where was the executioner, the chopping block?

There was a raised platform, but it was already occupied. Euphemie raised her gaze and met the blood red eyes of Eberhard von Mondlicht, standing before her. At his side, of course, was Lady Margaret, dressed in a fine, velvet gown.

They seemed to be in a place of honor. Behind them chattered a gaggle of reporters, pens and notebooks in hand, and a few nobles, having tea as though it were a garden party they were witnessing.

Why reporters, though Euphemie, as the guards began to lock shackles on her arms. One click of a key and her left arm was connected by it’s new cuff to a long chain. Another shackled her right. Her left leg and right leg came next, and finally she was abandoned, allowed to fall to her knees. The heavy chains brought her close to the ground.

Perhaps someone would simply come up behind her with a sword, and make it quick. But that was not so noteworthy as to require reporters. An owner could do anything they liked with a slave. And Euphemie belonged to the empire.

“Euphemie,” said Margaret before her, and a hush whispered its way over the audience. “You who has coveted my position and tried to end my life. It has been decided that you will die. Have you anything to say?”

Euphemie finally allowed her vision to follow the paths of the chains. 

Four horses stood in four directions, a chain connected to each. They were far enough away that she had not noticed them at first, but they had plenty of room before them.

When Lady Margaret or whoever it might be gave the signal, they would be made to run. She had heard of a queen who had been executed in such a manner, over a millennium ago now.

Euphemie had lived a wretched life, but at least she would die like a queen. 

At that thought, a laugh escaped her.

“What.”  Said Margaret. “Even now, you won’t beg for your life?”

Euphemie ought to have spoken. Words boiled beneath her tongue. But she could not stop laughing. Beg for her life? What life? Euphemie had been a peasant, and then a slave. Was she supposed to beg to return to serving courtly ladies, her back bent until it ached? Beg to sleep little each night, to eat scraps from her mistress’ table? 

No, no.  She had just a little dignity left in her. She would do as Margaret desired, and die in the manner of a queen.

Soon she would be nothing at all, but at least she would be remembered.

Perhaps Margaret was staring at her. Euphemie did not know. She had fallen back onto the dirt with her laughter, and refused to stop. They should execute her now with a smile on her face, staring up at the bright blue sky, and the birds fluttering above.

Just one more moment, and she could join them.

“Wait!” Cried a voice, unfamiliar. “Wait! Stop this at once!”