Frankia, 995.
"Ugh!"
Bree's lips uttered a soft sigh as a stone hit her head, adding another wound to her already battered face. They had bruised her head and face since they took her from prison.
Bree's slow steps were deemed unimpressive, earning her the 'gift' of more injuries. They forcefully pulled her towards a wooden prison carriage destined for the field where her death sentence would be executed.
Before finding herself in this position, Bree had once accompanied her father to witness a beheading. She remembered being unable to sleep for seven days afterward. She couldn't comprehend how hundreds of people could enjoy such a gruesome and barbaric spectacle, considering it entertainment.
Now, Bree found herself in the same situation as those she had been watching, paraded along the road before her imminent beheading. Her body was in a similar state. Though without a mirror, Bree was certain that her current appearance was disheveled. It was likely that both blood and dirt stained the coarse dress she wore. The dress, which was far from beautiful to begin with, now looked even more tattered.
This gruesome sight should have made her cry, but Bree's tears had run dry in the nights when she hoped for someone to free her. She hoped for a kind soul to rescue her from this ordeal, but none came.
Bree caressed the ring on her finger. Not a wedding ring, but an heirloom from her mother that she had managed to keep, as it seemed worthless. Yet, the ring held great value for Bree, especially now. It gave her strength to face death and hope for something better awaiting her beyond. She hopes to reunite with her mother after her death.
"Get up!" the guard barked, opening the door of the wooden prison.
Startled, Bree then bowed when she realized the carriage had arrived in the middle of the field.
People jeered and pointed out that the noise was too loud for Bree to make any clear sentences, a fact she was thankful for. She didn't need anything else to make her more miserable than she already was.
Bree composed her face, not wanting to show signs of suffering or pain. She ignored the throbbing pain between her thighs and the spinning sensation in her head, trying to appear unharmed.
Bree wanted the crowd to see only anger on her face, not fear or pleading.
The guard pointed to the stairs that would take Bree to the stage for today's spectacle. From below, Bree could see the guillotine in the center of the stage.
Bree climbed the wooden stairs one at a time, the clinking of the chains binding her legs accompanying her as she got closer to the device that would separate her head from her body.
Yet, it was impossible for Bree not to be afraid. The more steps she took, the more her knees trembled.
The brutal reality struck Bree again when her eyes met the balcony where the nobles watched the show. Radford, the man who ought to be her husband, is now occupying the balcony where Bree and her father once stood.
When their eyes met, Rad showed no emotion—not hatred, anger, or sadness. Rad seemed like a lifeless statue, unresponsive.
Bree's gaze shifted to the woman beside Rad. A girl with brownish, curly hair whispered something into Rad's ear. Rad remained unresponsive. But Amber, the girl who should be her sister, didn't need a reaction. She looked at Bree with a smug and satisfied smile. Amber was flaunting her intimacy with Rad.
Bree's body trembled. She had been calm until now, but seeing Amber's smile unleashed the pent-up anger in Bree.
Bree couldn't understand how, but she was sure Amber and Rad were the two responsible for her current situation. They must be the ones who put her in this position.
"Kneel!"
Bree still stared sharply at Rad, who didn't move, his eyes remaining cold. No emotions were displayed.
"KNEEL!"
The executioner responsible for lowering the guillotine shouted, as Bree hadn't moved. He pressed Bree's shoulders, forcing her to kneel.
Bree's knees bent, and she knelt in front of the guillotine.
She kept facing Rad, refusing to break eye contact to erase all the feelings she had ever had for him. It was all the foolishness that made her fall in love with a man so pale-skinned and charming.
But Bree closed her eyes, hearing the sound of the guillotine blade above her sliding down.
This was the end of her breath.
***
"Fix yourself and don't be foolish again!"
Bree frowned upon hearing that voice. The voice seemed to come from somewhere in the darkness.
Curious, Bree opened her eyes, finding herself facing a wooden wall. She's panting, and her eyes opened with confusion. She should be dead by now.
"What is this? Is this how death is?" Bree looked around, feeling her hands wet. Water droplets were on her hands.
Her cheeks felt wet as her hands touched them. She then looked down, examining her wet hands. It wasn't a dream; Bree could feel the water.
"Oh!" Bree exclaimed when she saw what clothes clung to her body. No longer the rough and filthy clothes soaked in blood, but a beautiful, clean white dress adorned with lace.
The silk, bought from the merchants of the Middle Lands, felt smooth against her skin. Silk from them was expensive and of high quality. Bree could recall all of this because the dress on her was her wedding gown.
Her wedding to Rad. Duke Radford Valois, the ruler of Marseille. One of the regions under the rule of the Frankia Kingdom. A wedding that eventually gave her the title of Duchess Valois, leaving behind the Donovan name inherited from her father.
An arranged marriage that was meant to be peaceful turned into a catastrophe. All these facts made Bree still vividly remember the moments of that day, even though six months had passed.
Bree shook her head, not wanting to recall those memories. The most important thing now was to figure out her existence in this strange place.
"Eh?"
Bree, still sitting, held onto her chair. The space she was in was not still, but swaying. Bree checked her surroundings again, and now she realized where she was.
After remembering the details of her wedding day, Bree understood where she was. She was currently inside a horse-drawn carriage heading to the Marseille castle. A beautiful carriage with red curtains on the side windows, various golden arch carvings, and red seats. Everything was the same.
Bree shifted and looked out the window, a wide marshland bordered by a gray overcast sky. She then looked forward.
Rad, along with some guards, rode on his black horse, wearing the same cloak he wore during the wedding. A black cloak with gold accents. Bree only saw his back, but she knew what Rad's handsomeness looked like from the front.
Bree used to gaze at that back shyly because that wedding day was the first time she met Rad. During the church blessing, she saw how handsome Rad was.
But her feelings were entirely different now; only pure hatred filled Bree's heart, making her want to leap and rush towards Rad to knock him off the horse—maybe even to his death.
Then Bree blinks, rearranging her thoughts.
"What is really happening? Am I marrying him for the second time?"