Chapter 1, this has changed quite a few times, the bare bones idea has always been the same, in trouble for murder, but the ideas and ways I've worded it have changed every single time I attack it. First she actually killed someone, but that seemed too malicious. Then it was accidental, but she never showed much remorse for it I thought. When I had a first draft all written up, Arine was a real Mary-Sue, and that bugged the hell out of me. She was rebellious against her upbringing, all the boys wanted her, she was terribly cheeky and rude and was always fluctuating in her emotions. Sometimes she'd come across as a feisty scrappy woman and then the next a fearful girl. And she never had an occupation, which also bugged me. (And yes, I wrote this character but I never bothered to address her faults)
Also, the Captain in this chapter needs some work I think, he's just a bit to mean. I either want to tone it down (But I love the peril!) or add some flesh to his character (one or two lines to hint at something more maybe...)
Chapter 1:
Arine, daughter of Arhun and Bettine, a brown haired, bookish sort of girl with a good standing job as a scroll scribe and was as normal and un-heroic as the days were long. But this bookish un-heroic fairy held the future of everyone within her ink stained grasp.
And it is here now we find Arine in the worst situation imaginable, in a cell, awaiting the dawn for her execution.
The young fairy was sat upon a sack of hay reading the small book of folk tales that her brother had sent her in pitied love. She could hear screams and wails coming from all around, some begging for release, others were just howling relentlessly.
With a quivered breath she continued to read again, trying to suppress her own strangled wails of fear.
The cell was small and bare, she could just about stretch out in one direction but not the other way. Kindly her jailors had provided the hay filled sack to sleep on and a bucket in the corner that was filthy and leaking.
There was a barred window high up, far from where the fairy could fly as around her slim ankle was a shackle and a length of chain. In her time here Arine had flew as high as the chain would allow and gripped the wall, savouring the fresh smell of the spring air that rolled in just above her head.
Arine realised she was itching again as she was reading. It was the dress. To ensure she'd not hidden anything with the folds of her dress Arine was stripped and forced to wear the brown woollen dress that smelt worse than the bucket.
The hole in the back for her lovely shimmering green wings was too small and the scratchy wool scraped constantly against the fleshy chords connected to her wings.
Between itching herself raw and re-reading the same line of text over and over Arine sent the book flying at the door in frustration with a pathetic wail. The little book banged against the wood loudly and sprawled across the floor with another thud.
Pitiful sobs began to escape her lips; she tried to calm herself down but after spending the past two months with a steely facade about her whole situation Arine couldn't stop herself. She lay down on the sack and curled herself up and cried herself to sleep, alternating between long wails of anguish and quick sobs that left her almost dry heaving.
Just as a wave of calm sleep washed over the exhausted fairy she was woken by heavy fisted banging against the door. Her eyes sprang open and she could see the first peek of dawn spreading throughout her rotten little cell. It was morning. Her last morning.
The heavy wooden door opened with a groan and banged loudly on the wall as the cell began to fill with green leather clad guards. One guard began to take the shackle off Arine's ankle while some held Arine in firm grips and others busied themselves getting her ready for transportation.
If Arine had had any fight within her she might have tried to fight her way out. But the mousy fairy rarely raised her voice in public let alone a knife. Plus the sharp blades at the guard's belts kept any stupid ideas at bay. If she was to die this morning then she would at least go with dignity, not like an animal.
So she let them bind her, first her hands behind her back in a tight rope knot. Then two slip knots, one at her waist and one around her neck. These were to ensure that she wouldn't try to fly away during the walk to the execution platform. A captain of the guards walked in, his green under tunic was longer than the others and swept by his feet with every step. He had a stern looking face that spelled it all for Arine.
He took her neck rope in his hands, gave her a once over and tugged at the rope. Arine nearly lost her balance but the guard holding her middle rope tugged too and she managed to right herself. The rest of the guards circled around her and they began her walk.
As they walked along the dungeon Arine tried to block out the shouts of anger coming from the cells. Even those who were liars, beggars, thieves and worst were angry at her. Arine focused all her efforts into putting her feet forward and not crying.
The group reached a great looking door, intricate and carved with a thousand tales. Two smart looking guards in gleaming armour moved and opened the door with some effort. It was carved straight into the tallest tree and had no metal hinges, only thick wooden ones that squeaked and creaked even after a hundred years of use.
The doors opened and led out onto a weathered wooden platform. They were at the highest point of The Council Tree, The Great Council of Fairies were seated upon carved branches that snaked through the wooden pavilion secured to the tips of the branches of the tree. Their rich silk clothing blew around from the high winds up here. There were twelve of them, varying age, sex and occupation. Some had been born into the role of Council member, while others were considered for their great contributions to fairy kind. Arine's fate rested with them.
The Guards that had surrounded Arine now moved to strategic points around the platform, hands by their sides, soldiers waiting for their commands. Only the Captain held Arine's neck rope now. A small flicker of an idea of punching him in the face and flying to freedom flew across her face but was put out as a heavy handed shove into her shoulder sent her stumbling across the floor. The neck rope tightened violently, nipping into her skin and choking her of her air. With her hands behind her Arine could do nothing except collapse to her knees, making pitiful choking sounds.
The Captain finally released the rope a little after Arine had gone a terrible shade of red. She was kneeled in front of The Council, there were twelve branch seats but only eleven present. Arine bowed her head and awaited the sentence.
"Arine of Arhun," began a tunic wearing fairy to the side of the first council member. "For the crime of murder The Great Council of Fairies found you guilty." Arine kept her head bowed. She already knew her fate. She could feel something trying to escape from her mouth, a scream or vomit she wasn't quite sure.
"Arine of Arhun, you are to be stripped of your wings and hung from the feet so you may never see the skies again." It was the worst punishment any fairy could ever receive, to be stripped of your wings was one thing, but to never see the skies again was a final insult to the traitor as it meant they would never see the heavens with their eyes, only hell below.
The young fairy was hoisted to her feet, the Captain dragging her towards the pavilion edge. Arine could feel a hysterical scream lodged tight in her throat but she just swallowed it down, clamping her jaw tight. She wanted to protest her innocence, she hadn't done anything wrong! But they wouldn't believe, The Great Council hadn't listened to her in trial; they certainly wouldn't moments before her execution.
Arine was kicked by the Captain, down to her knees and then down so her neck fell onto a block. She was dazed now, white noise played in her head as the Captains boot made contact with her head. Her arms were unbound from behind her and held straight out. A long length of rope was looped around and around her ankles so she could be strung up after.
She came to her senses just as the executioner made is way forward. She heard the slice as he sharpened his blade one final time; the sound shivered its way right through her and awakened something inside her. Her fighting spirit.
Arine began to struggle, clawing at her captors arms and shaking her head from side to side, anything to gain movement. She was shrieking now, crying out her innocence again and again. It was all in vain of course, the kicking and the struggling. There were only three men holding her down but it was enough to keep her petite frame at bay. But she had decided to not go without a fight, she'd scream out her innocence with her final breath.
Her screams were silenced though as the executioner grabbed her wing, holding the fine silky flesh to steady it as he went to slice. Guiding him self up, he took a swing back and brought his blade down.
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