She appreciated and admired the world, once—just a few months ago, she would have looked outside and be able to optimistically describe what she saw. She could walk into town, entertain small talk, and be entirely comfortable while doing it. People even called her ‘brave,’ at some point.

But looking outside now filled her with some kind of fear—how it must be full of people she didn’t really know and people who, for whatever reason, might agree with him or otherwise try to hurt her family.

Adelinde only felt safe here because there were locks; a dozen on the main door, and two on the balcony and nursery doors. At times it felt like even that wasn’t enough. She was lucky she had Mark to help her with work; even if she probably could argue and agree behind the safety of a locked door, he understood that she…did not entirely want to.

Knives didn’t always bother her, but now she expected one behind every person she saw.

She sat on her bed, glancing over the entire score book she filled with music in only a few days. Most of the songs were riotous, rising up and down with no reason to; in many, there was a moment of silence or quieter instruments and then a large array of many at once. She never expected to actually play them, except maybe for Aurik’s execution.

And that was assuming she even attended, the dreaded event being in a few hours and Adelinde herself remained unprepared for going out, not yet inspired to witness the death of an old love and unconvinced that she would be safe seeing him.

Someone knocked on the door, then tried to open it before remembering the locks and respectfully let go. Anyone but Mark wouldn’t take that into consideration.

“What is it?” She tried to sound more confident than she was, even if the effort was useless against her brother.

“Aurik remembered the old last request law. He wants to see you, and I can’t find a good enough excuse for me to hear it instead.”

She frowned. Honestly, she had hoped he would have forgotten—the law itself was roundabout and hidden under mountains of more pressing legal matters, to the point where many people didn’t know they could ask for something. It used to mean more when the last request was often some kind of letter to family members; these days, if anyone knew of it they tried to ask for something like their execution being postponed or canceled.

Aurik was smarter than to ask for anything impossible, but that concerned her on its own. Then again, she also thought he was smarter than to have—in his words—a ‘lapse in judgment.’ Maybe he would ask for something she couldn’t grant, and she wouldn’t have to worry.

Holding on to that small hope, she responded to Mark.

“I’ll come in about an hour.” That seemed more confident than her earlier question. She closed the score book she was holding and stood up. “Just…make sure he can’t get too close.”

“I can do that. I’ll come back to walk you there, if you want.”

“…Yes, please.”

…

She got ready in alternating quickness or slowness depending on which way her thoughts tried to wander. A large collection of emotions were tied to Aurik’s name, and she battled with which ones she would present—which ones she should highlight or suppress as need be. She didn’t even know if she could do that efficiently.

San Asari didn’t have an ‘actual’ prison—there were cells beneath the palace but no one’s been placed in there in decades if not longer—so Aurik had the luxury of spending the past few months inside his house. As promised, Mark walked with her; she knew her way there, but it helped calm some anxiety. At least she wasn’t alone.

Once she got to the Qrian’s home, she held a silent conversation with Mark mostly just consisting of body language and expressions. Arguing like that—she knew Mark wanted her to go by herself, but she personally didn’t think she could breathe if she did—her brother eventually gave up and led her to where Aurik was.

Aurik greeted her with something like a desperate smile when she entered the library, gently closing a music theory book with nonchalance no man could reasonably have when he knew today was his last. If she could believe he went mad, this might actually be easier.

“Adelinde.” He slowly rose, and Mark murmured a quiet promise to stay right outside the door. Adelinde tensed, but tried not to let Aurik see; she immediately questioned whether or not he noticed regardless.

“I was told you have a request,” Adelinde said simply. For better or worse, she focused on Aurik—his expression, how he moved. He dressed in the same casual outfit reminiscent of the first island’s as usual, looking like he was set to attend a wedding; knowing him, he likely had the entire execution imagined as some grand affair more similar to a party. Anything for him to justify his actions, even if it only made sense to him.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

At least his feet were chained, which would limit his movement. He wouldn’t be able to follow after her when she left; as long as he kept his distance, she should be fine. Should.

He paused for a moment, then looked right at her. Adelinde flinched from the gaze first; afterwards, Aurik made his request.

“I just want to meet my son. That’s it.”

Adelinde nodded slowly and glanced back at Mark.

“Can you bring Matteo here?” she asked. He gave her another silent look—essentially trying to confirm—and she continued, “I…might be able to handle a few minutes with Aurik. I’d rather you get him than someone else.”

Mark looked up just to give Aurik a warning look, to which Aurik respectfully took a step back. As soon as Mark left, however, Aurik reclaimed that step and made another.

Adelinde tried to imitate Mark’s look, but she knew it showed her fear. Aurik seemed to understand what that meant, but still tried to continue on conversation while they didn’t have any eavesdroppers.

“It’s for a good cause,” Aurik insisted. “With two omyn, we could awaken—”

“You tried that argument in court, and the decision still stands,” Adelinde maintained as calmly as she could. A bit more emotional despite her intention, she asked, “What kind of grand future do you see for yourself, that you would try to murder your fiancée while she was pregnant?”

“It—” he stopped when he must have realized the particular rebuttal had already been used. He tried again after a moment. “I just didn’t want anything to get in the way—I swear, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I promise, Adelinde. If you let me show you—”

“You are dying today. There’s no exception to that.”

Aurik almost looked a bit hurt. At this point she didn’t know if it was feigned or genuine. “Don’t you trust me?”

Adelinde took a step back, for once in the conversation confident. “Do you really expect me to?”

He searched her expression for anything he could use to argue, but the only thing to find was newfound fear. Without giving any kind of rebuttal, Aurik sighed and sat back down.

She avoided looking at him, alternating between observing the books and checking to see if anyone was coming, until Mark came back gently carrying Matteo. She murmured some thanks, carefully taking the baby from his uncle.

She turned back towards Aurik and hesitated. He looked up at her but didn’t speak a word.

Adelinde mustered some kind of courage and came a bit closer to Aurik; he met her halfway and simply watched as little Matteo tried to get himself closer to Adelinde’s warmth. Aurik started to reach for the baby, but must’ve noticed Adelinde’s subconscious attempt at drawing Matteo closer and respectfully chose to put his hand back down.

“…You said his name was Matteo,” Aurik noted quietly. “Did you think of that yourself?”

“Mark helped me,” Adelinde replied. Watching her son sleep, she almost wanted to smile.

She stopped as soon as Aurik noticed and gave his own grin. She sighed after a second.

“I…want to understand,” Adelinde admitted, looking up at him. “I trusted you; whether intentional or not, you betrayed that. I just want to know why.”

Aurik put his hands on her shoulders quicker than she could respond, nearly whispering it:

“We have the chance to create a nation. I needed to be able to travel—I couldn’t do that if I was a father. If you would let me leave and take you with me, I can show you—”

“You can’t be acquitted at this point, Aurik,” she said simply. She managed the strength to step away from him, freeing herself from his grip. He was close enough to try again, but in that way at least he admitted defeat. “You could have been a king—do you realize how close you were? All you had to do was say you were ready, then a date would be set and you would have everything you could have asked for. Instead, you chose to stab me in a ‘lapse of judgment’ so you could follow some dream of a nation that will never exist.”

“Life there would be better than here,” Aurik protested, slightly growing louder. “We could have been happy there; there’s so much—”

“Nations can only rise by a god’s will,” Adelinde maintained. She took another step back. “And they will fall by the same order when their time comes. I didn’t think you were one to think fairytales were prophecies, but…” She looked directly at him, if only for a second. “I was wrong, and you can’t do anything to fix the damage at this point.”

He seemed prepared to continue, then sighed.

“…May I have a parting kiss, at least?”

Adelinde watched his expression for a moment, then replied coldly, “You saw Matteo. As far as I’m concerned, your final wish is fulfilled.”

She turned to leave, partially expecting him to lunge towards her or make some kind of movement—instead, he went back to his chair. She didn’t look back to confirm, but she assumed he continued reading.

She used Matteo as an excuse to stay inside during the execution, and Mark promised to oversee it in her stead. She still slipped into her own thoughts—confusion, lingering love, anger, hesitance, and guilt all tied to one man. She hated that she still felt compelled to mourn, considering his actions, but unlike other important figures he received no memorial or acknowledgment of his death outside of a typical announcement.

His motivations were clear to only him, it seemed. Adelinde didn’t know if that was better or worse than knowing.