Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes Gwen would imagine what the last hours of her life would be like. Would she be comfortable? Would she be surrounded by people who loved her? Would she have lived past 40?

Unfortunately for her, none of these were the case.

Gwen was destined to spend the final hours of her life rotting in a jail cell, handcuffed to the wall.
It was dark, dingy and the drips of water that fell from the leaky roof were starting to get on her nerves. The slightest noise louder than that would cause her to prick her ears up and listen, wondering if it was time for her appointment with the gallows. Not yet.
They had to keep her suffering just a bit longer.

She hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. Or something like that. She could only guess. There was no way of keeping track of time. Maybe it was closer to thirty-six hours? It wasn’t the longest Gwen had ever gone without food. But then again, she wasn’t usually suspended by her wrists with her boots just barely scuffing the ground. She couldn’t even feel her arms anymore. Perhaps that was for the best, they’d probably be screaming in agony.

“Ow!”
“Ah, I’m so sorry, I ju–”
The girl was rubbing her shoulder where she had collided harshly with Gwen. Her breath hitched at the sound of voices from the end of the alley. She pulled her cloak over her tighter and turned on her heel to run.

Gwen wondered if she was okay, if she’d got out unharmed. If she did, Gwen hoped she’d never have to see her again. She’d much rather the girl never find out about her death.
Alas, the world wasn’t that kind - otherwise Gwen wouldn’t be sentenced to death in the first place, or she'd been given the courtesy of dying after the summer solstice celebrations - on a full stomach. If she had to guess, the solstice was tomorrow, or the following day.

“What’s going on?”
The girl paused, shakily turning to face her. “I just need to get away. There’s men chas–”
Three shadowy figures appeared from the darkness, heading straight for them. Gwen could tell they were men, and that they were drunk from their stumbling stupour.
Then it hit her like a cartload of bricks.

Footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase, the owner of them descending painfully slowly.
It was a couple men Gwen recognised from town, each one holding a pitchfork. The one at the front stepped forwards to unlock the cell, the other few raised their pitchforks in his stead. Gwen rolled her eyes, desperately trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Her time was up. She was out of time, out of second chances.

“Run!” Gwen hissed at her, panic laced through her voice.
Where they were at that moment, in the maze alleyways that twisted and turned to no end, they happened to be around the corner from a red light district; chock full of brothel houses, prostitutes and the like. And some people wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

Her shackles were released from the wall. Her hands fell limp in front of her, only for them to be harshly shoved over her head and behind her back.

Every step brought her closer to death.
She was being hauled up the stairs by her elbow and prodded forwards from behind.
Her wrists were aching, now that the blood was rushing back into her arms, she could feel every little movement of the cuffs against her skin.

When the girl turned right, Gwen immediately lurched after her. She clearly wasn't from here. If she was, she'd know that way was a dead end.
The girl was turning back on herself when Gwen caught up. She snatched her hand up and began tugging her away down the left path instead.
She couldn't just sit idly by, not when this girl would likely be raped and left in a ditch for death to claim her.

The sooner they got out of the back alleys, the better. Gwen needed to bring this girl towards the town square.
Well lit, lots of people, even at this time of night.

The sunlight beamed down on her. She squinted, as she emerged from the dungeons. There were crowds of people craning their necks to get a look at her. She was led through the middle of the crowd, the people parting as she was led towards a wooden cart.

“This way!” Gwen hissed at the girl, still dragging her slong behind her. They had tonout as much distance as they could between them and the men - who she could still hear on their tail.
Her heart was pounding in her ears, she wasn't able to keep this speed up for much longer. She could feel a painful stitch needling its way into her side.

The two girls were slowing down slightly, the attackers growing more and more aware of it as the space between them started to lessen.

Gwen shot a quick glance behind them. They were right there. Right there.
As quick as her body allowed her to move, she pulled the girl into a sharp left turn, gently shoving her onwards.

The girl looked worried, but she kept moving, her purple cloak rippling with the movement.

Gwen eyed the side of the house they were passing and reached up to pull several crates of produce towards her, their weight swayed slowly, subsequently causing the towers of crates to come crashing down onto the cobbles.
That should buy them some time-

The three men approached the roadblock, the closest one locking eyes with Gwen, slightly dumbfounded.
Clearly not enough time, she’d have been better just running.
Hold on. Gwen knew that guy! She hurriedly glanced at the other two men who'd collided with the crates. She knew them too!

All three of them used to attend her school. They were classmates all the way until they finished.
They were her age.

Gwen felt sick, turning on her heels to run. She caught up with the girl in no time. Her pace was slightly slower than it had been previously.

But this new piece of information was whirring about in Gwen's head. She knew who these boys were.
She could take them.
She stood a chance.

Maybe there was a way out of this after all. She could pick something up and fight back.
Or maybe not.

Gwen was harshly shoved inside the cart, the doors slamming shut behind her.
The cart began rolling across the uneven cobblestones.
People were yelling and cursing at her. There was a slight thudding around the cart. The sound of shattering ceramic and the dull squelch of produce.

She peeked out of the barred window to be met with a china vase crashing into the spot right above the window.
Gwen darted back from the window, shaking china shards from her fringe. She could see all the decorations for the festival. She was right. It was tomorrow.

The cart ground to a halt and the doors swung open. Gwen was tugged to her feet out onto the street. The crowds were even bigger than before.
Her heart sank when she laid eyes on the gallows. The severity was starting to sink in. She was really about to die.

The walk up to the gallows was painfully slow, like her guards were trying to drag it out to give more time for people to throw things. Which some were still doing.
A plant pot shattered at her feet and someone had thrown a clump of dirt at her head. They missed.

Gwen tried her best to calm down. There was no point wasting her last moments getting worked up.

She froze. Something cold, slippery and wet hit her cheek. She couldn't see what it was until it slid off her cheek and onto her chest.
Blood dribbled down her skin and into her cleavage.
Gwen gagged, tears pricking her eyes. There was some kind of animal organ sitting atop her breast, inching its way towards her cleavage.

Gwen stood rooted on the spot. Her lip was quivering. She was so close to breaking down on the spot.
She tried to flick the organ off. But without hands, that proved difficult.
Gwen felt the blood trickle down her neck from her cheek to meet the rest of it, the extra liquid pooling between her breasts before trickling down to her navel.

That was the last straw. The tears came thick and fast. She stared at the bloody organ on her skin, wishing for it to get up itself. No one else was going to help her.
Hanging her head in humiliation wasn't how she wanted to die.

She wondered if Zachary knew she was to be killed. He had for sure noticed something was up. She hadn't come home for a few days.
How would he break the news to mother? She'd eventually notice that Gwen was gone, and that she wasn't coming back. She'd have to trust that he’d stick with their mother, but the chances of her dying would skyrocket with no Gwen to bring income into the house. Zach would have to get a job.
Gwen snorted at the thought of her brother earning an honest wage. After all, he was a firm believer of the five-finger discount.

It wasn't ideal. Having her sixteen year-old brother get a full time job to support two people, plus medicine bills. That was always the plan if worst came to worst - and it had.

She was led up the wooden stairs of the gallows.
The executioner eyed the piece of meat on her chest.
“Can someone please remove that? Let the girl die with dignity.”

The man gripping Gwen's shoulder snorted, “We'll give her as much dignity as she gave those men.”
Gwen tensed, folding at the waist to remove the offal herself.
She was immediately hauled upright and violently shaken by the guards on either side. Well,
not immediately. The organ hit the wood of the gallows with a small splat.

Gwen was tugged forwards towards the edge of the wooden platform. She watched the ever-growing crowd assemble, her eyes combing through the people that had the privilege of watching her die.

She spotted a couple familiar faces, most with blank expressions.
One of note, Cody Anderson was quietly blubbering into his shirt. Hey, she’d never have to go on that date with him now. That was a plus.
A small, twisted part of her found it funny that he'd spent all of his time asking her out, rather than getting to know her like a real person.
Now she was going to die.

Gwen was led forwards as the noose was tugged towards her. She was going to throw up.
Not like she had anything to regurgitate. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Beads of sweat were dripping down her nose and she could feel her hair sticking to the back of the neck.
Her palms were dripping. With every step forward her knees buckled. Her blood was draining cold. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe.

The noose was tied around her neck, not too snugly, but it did nothing to ease her distress.

Calm down. Calm down. Gwen closed her eyes.
She was crying again. The tears trickled down her cheeks.
Clenching her jaw, Gwen took in a deep breath through her nose.

Don’t scream, don’t cry anymore. Don’t give them what they want.

Gwen’s eyes fluttered open. Her vision was clouded with a colourful aura.
She stood shakily on the trapdoor, waiting for the wood to drop out from underneath her.

The door swung back.

With a crude, dull, snapping sound, everything flashed bright white, then faded to black.

Chapter Text

The body swayed back and forth slowly, the limbs slack and the rope taut from the weight of Gwen’s limp and lifeless body hanging from the gallows. People who once knew her stared at the sight in front of them. Someone who had singlehandedly worked so hard to keep her family afloat, now nothing more than a memory

The sound of her neck breaking was still echoing around in people’s heads.
There hadn’t been a public execution in their kingdom for decades, only to break the streak to hang a nineteen year-old girl living in poverty.

It had been eerily quiet. She hadn’t screamed, shouted, wailed for help. After she was secured inside the noose, she had fallen silent. Not even a last word.

Crows squawked and flew from their perches as the midday chimes echoed from the clock tower.

Gwen woke up in a cold sweat. She sat up as quick as a flash and threw her covers off her legs to try and cool down.

What the hell was that? What kind of fucked up trick were her dreams playing on her?

She took a deep breath in… and out…

She’d just had a dream about herself dying. How weird is that?

She was going to vomit.

Sure enough, she felt her stomach heave and retch as she raced outside, neatly emptying the contents of her stomach into a sloppy pile on the street. Her hands were clammy and cold.
Gwen wiped them on her clothes before slipping her feet into a pair of worn out leather sandals and snatching up a metal pail to make her way down the street to the hand pump that led down to the well. She filled the bucket up a little more than halfway then returned home.

She set the pail down in the kitchen, scooping out some water in a mug.
She took a swig of her drink, rinsing her mouth free of vomit.

“Gwen? Are you alright?” A figure appeared in the doorway, taking the form of her little brother. Well, ‘little’ was a stretch.
“I’m fine, Zach. My stomach was just feeling odd.”

She pressed her hand to her abdomen, scrunching up the cloth of her clothes in her palm. Watching Zachary return to his room, she let out a shaky breath.
It felt so real. Her dream was all too real. Down to the wind on her face and the organ on her chest.
She was all too eager to brush it off and move on, but its looming presence continued to haunt her even after she’d picked some mould off a slice of bread and headed out to work as usual.

Everyone in town was a lot more chipper and lively than usual - the effect of the upcoming summer solstice celebrations. People darting about with decorations: banners, bunting, statues, the like. The town was positively buzzing. Gwen was surprised about the late decorating this year, only to remember the excessive flower garlands all over the mayor's house the previous year.

Gwen worked at a bakery. Nothing extravagant. Her job consisted of a lot of sweeping, wiping countertops and taking out trash.
She didn’t mind it too much although she’d rather be doing something more art related. The pay was decent enough.
It was a smaller bakery, mother and son owned and on a quieter side of town, away from the main square and the big bakery that most people frequented. Unfortunately, that had been impacting their business as of late - not to mention the spike in rent.

She gently pushed the door open to be greeted by the smell of pastries straight out of the oven.
The son, Devon, was a boy about her age, five-ish months younger. He was nearly two feet taller than her, but his demeanor was that of a teddy bear, completely eliminating all feelings of intimidation Gwen had on their first meeting.

“Good morning, Gwen.” He smiled as she entered the shop.
“Morning, Devon.”
Devon smiled, giving Gwen a wave as she passed him to the back of the bakery.

She collected her apron, tying it in a neat bow, then popping back outside to rinse her hands under the water pump.
“Doing anything for the summer solstice this year, Gwen?” Devon asked when she returned to the main room of the shop to pick up her broom.
“Nothing as per usual, Devon.” Gwen replied. “I’m far too busy.”

The broom dragged along the floor as Gwen absentmindedly brushed dust into a small pile on the floor.
“You know my mother’s still ill.” She opened the shop door, brushing the dust outside. “Speaking of mothers, where’s yours?”
“Setting up for summer solstice celebrations. We’re planning on having a small stall closer to the centre of town; we hope it’ll bring in more customers. So it’s just us today.”
Gwen nodded, taking a seat by the door.

Devon sat up alert as the hourglass on the front counter ran dry. “Man the counter for me, I have to go and take some things out of the oven.”
“Yeah, sure.”

The sunlight was streaming in through the window, casting a crisscross shadow onto the wooden floor. It illuminated the flowers in the box on the sill.
Violets. If she remembered correctly.

She made her way up to the sill, gently leaning on the edge. Sure enough, there were violets in the planter.
She plucked a petal off of the nearest flower, placing it on her tongue and letting her eyes flutter closed.

“Look, Gwen, there’s been too many late payments. This time I really can’t take half. My dad’ll kill me. We have to make a living too.”

Gwen froze. Swallowing the petal slowly. What was that? What was that? Probably the start of her daydreaming. That was the only explanation she could think of for the hazy, distorted speech that entered her mind.
Her head was a little heavy, like she was about to fall over. She brushed it off, turning around only to realise that someone was standing politely at the counter waiting for her.
“Ah! Sorry! Hold on.”

She sheepishly raced around to the other side of the counter to serve them. It was a kind-looking older lady standing there. She didn’t seem to mind too much, chattering on and on about her grandson and how he was coming to visit.
“Oh, he’s a lovely boy, about your age too. I should introduce you two.”
Gwen laughed awkwardly, “I’m alright, thank you ma’am.”

The woman tutted slightly, a smile on her face, “I tell you, you’re missing out.”
“I’m sure I am, ma’am.”

The little brass bell jingled as she left the shop, baked goods in hand.
Devon’s footsteps grew louder as he returned to the front of the shop, a basket of freshly cooled pastries on his arm.
“Y’know it wouldn’t’ve hurt to take her up on the offer?”
“For setting me up?” Gwen deadpanned. “I’m a little busy to meet her grandson, thanks.”

Devon picked up a pair of tongs to restock the glass cabinet. “I’ve seen that woman a lot. She’s pretty dang wealthy.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow, trying to wrap her head around what he was suggesting. “You’re saying I date her grandson and marry wealthy?”
“Essentially.”

“Geez, Devon. I did not expect anything like that from you. My brother - yes. He’s desperate to get rid of me.”
She paused, “Besides, I thought you didn’t like the idea of marriage?”
“For myself.” Devon corrected. “I’ve never thought it’d be right for me, despite what my momma advised me. I’d rather surround myself with friends, y’know?”

Right. She forgot about that.
He’s got some nerve suggesting she settle down.
Whatever.
He probably didn’t mean anything bad by it - it was Devon.

She’d be lying if she said that the idea of marrying rich hadn’t crossed her mind at all. But then her dignity kept her back. She didn’t like the idea of being seen as a ruthless gold-digger - only going after someone for their money. Regardless of whether or not the lady’s grandson was a nice boy. It would just be weighing on her mind all the time.

Gwen knew that people didn’t often marry for love. Social constraints restricted that, and there was nothing anyone could do about that without being permanently shunned from society. God forbid a noble fell for someone of lower class.

“I know.” Gwen sighed. “I know that’s what you want. I just wish I didn’t have to bust my ass all the time so we could actually live. I wish our roof wasn’t leaky; I wish we had food that wasn’t mouldy; I wish a lot of things.”
“Right.”
“I mean, at least with summer solstice coming up, people’ll be giving free samples and stuff.” She laughed.
“Time to stock up,” Devon scoffed, chuckling.
“Yeah.”

The day moved slower and slower. Gwen kept watching the clock on the wall tick round and round and round. The shop wasn’t as busy as she had expected throughout the day so she was able to clock out at four on the dot.

She bid goodbye to Devon before setting off back home. The walk was brisk and it was only slightly windy. She was able to make it back home in record time, and from there she had to get to work preparing dinner.
Her little brother wasn’t home yet, so before she could begin she checked up on her mother - still bedridden with the flu.

Stew.
She’d make stew for dinner.

Gwen huffed and puffed as she returned with her third pail of water from the pump at the end of the street.
The pail kept bouncing off her shin. She could feel the metal bruising her already black and blue leg.

She stumbled into the front room of her run down home, carefully tipping the remainder of the water into a pot over the fireplace. She set the pail down and rummaged through the tinderbox on the worn-out wooden mantle piece in search of matches, to which she quickly discovered there were none.
Gwen made a mental note to buy more, picking up flint and steel in an attempt to start a fire.

She stared at the bubbling and boiling water in the pot. She was preparing a stew for dinner that evening so they could eat at a reasonable time.
Her mother was in bed, and her younger brother, Zachary, was probably out causing trouble with his friends in the town centre. She just wished that he'd actually use his time to earn money. At the end of the day, Gwen was just glad that he stayed out of the sketchy alleys that they lived in.

Gwen skilfully moved the knife back and forth across the chopping board, dicing the potatoes and carrots. They were lucky enough to be able to grow a couple vegetables in their garden, it made it easier on money problems. Not by much, but there wasn’t room to complain.

Their squalid lifestyle was one of her family's largest problems. The others were largely connected: their sketchy neighbourhood - if you could even call it a neighbourhood. Gwen was pretty sure a large chunk of all the crime in the kingdom emanated from the alleys in which she lived (nothing to do with her of course - mostly). It took some getting used to, but after nearly twenty years of living in these alleys, Gwen could take care of herself. Which areas to avoid, which areas provided good hiding places, which areas were safe. The latter being few and far between.

Gwen jumped as Zachary burst into the house, loudly dumping a hemp sack down on the table.
“What's this?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Food.” Zachary wiped his nose on his sleeve, closing the door behind him.
Gwen made a noise of disgust and scepticism.
“Should last us about a week.”
She let out a gasp as she peered inside the sack.

“A week?! Zach! Try two weeks. I've never seen so much food in ages!”
She sighed, “Apart from at the market.”
Zachary's face fell to an identical expression as Gwen.
“Yeah. Don’t tell Mother about any of this please, Gwen…”

Gwen furrowed her brow, “Why…?”
She trailed off, understanding what her brother meant. She gave him a curt nod and turned back to the chopping board. She knew Zachary had stolen the produce right off the stall. She couldn’t exactly reprimand him. She’d be an awful hypocrite. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t ever helped herself to things from larger shops. Money was tight, and desperate times called for desperate measures, and times were growing more and more desperate.

“Gwen?”
“Hm?” Gwen lazily turned to her brother, “what is it?”
Zachary shook his head, “Get some rest Gwen. I’ll finish the stew.”
Gwen nodded, “Remember to–”
“Put the lid on the pot so it doesn’t cool down as quickly.” Zachary chimed in, ushering her towards the back room.
“Wash your hands!” Gwen snapped, turning around, jabbing a pointy fingernail in her younger brother’s face.
He promptly shoved her hand out of his face, “You can talk. Cut your talons, psycho.”
“Dick.”

Gwen woke up from her nap feeling semi-refreshed. She rubbed crust from her eyes, wiping her hands on her skirt. She sat up on her mattress, feeling instant relief from the sharp, and probably rusty, springs that dug into her back.
She reached for her hairbrush on her nightstand and attacked the tangled mess of dark brown hair on her head.
Her clothes were crumpled from sleeping in them, but she didn't really care - she'd be changing them before bed anyway. Trudging through to the main room, she checked the slow rusty old clock on the mantelpiece: twelve minutes past four.
Add another hour and twenty-three to make it accurate… Gwen pulled a face whilst she did the sum mentally. Twenty-five minutes to six.

Gentle footsteps came from the back of the room, revealing Zachary carrying an empty dinner bowl.
“Mother's asleep now.”
“Did she keep everything down?”
Zachary nodded, gesturing to a bowl sitting on the table, “That's yours Gwen.”
“Thanks, Zach.” Gwen sat down, picking up the spoon by her bowl.
The stew was on the more lukewarm side, she screwed her face up as a piece of tepid potato slid against her tongue.

She shivered and spoke once she had swallowed her mouthful. “Did you give Mother her medication?”
“Oh!” Zach gasped, “Yes, but, I forgot to tell you - there's none left now.”
Gwen shot to her feet, dinner forgotten about.
“I have to go get some now then. The pharmacist closes at half past six.”

“Can we afford it?” Zachary bit his lip, “Dr Anderson is getting tired of late payments.”
“His son seems to like me for some reason.” Gwen shrugged, snatching a couple silver coins off the counter. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She grabbed her black cardigan from the hook on the wall, throwing it on.
“I'll get matches too.” She added before disappearing out of the door.

The air was still but frigid. Gwen wrapped her cardigan tighter around her body. A wave of tiredness washed over her as she began the fifteen minute walk to the pharmacists.
As much as she grumbled and complained, she wasn’t about to send her sixteen year old brother on a scavenger hunt for their mother’s medication. Not when there were all sorts of people lurking in the shadows ready to pounce.

She had grown not to be scared, but to be cautious. She'd be lying if she said she'd never been attacked before. It was commonplace in the dark and dingy alleys she was raised in. She was used to it. Gwen didn't like that fact, but the world wasn't going to change for her. She just had to play with the hand she was dealt.

Gwen trudged up the muddy gravel path to the door. The lantern out front cast a small orangey-yellow glow. It was dimming, clear that they were trying to shut up shop for the night.
She pushed the door open, the little brass bell dinging as she entered.
The young man at the counter languidly raised his head, then his face lit up when he saw her.

“Gwen!” He grinned from ear to ear, smirking flirtatiously, “Fancy seeing you here!”
Gwen rolled her eyes, “It’s not like I frequent this place or anything.”

Cody smiled, “What can I get for you?”
“Just the usual,” Gwen rummaged in her pocket for her coins, tossing them onto the counter.

Cody popped his head up from under the counter, producing a prescription. When his eyes caught sight of the coins on the wood, he froze uneasily.
“Is… that all you can pay?”
Gwen nodded and he went pale.

Cody bit his lip, “Gwen, I’m sorry… that’s not enough…”
Her stomach dropped like a stone. “Cody, that's all I can give you. Isn't there anything that could convince you?”
“Look, Gwen, there’s been too many late payments. This time I really can’t take half. My dad’ll kill me. We have to make a living too.”

Gwen’s blood ran cold.
She had heard those words in her daydream-like state. With the same inflections and everything.
Oh god. It’s just a coincidence, right?
It can’t be. How could it be?

She swallowed the thought, running a hand through her hair. The medicine. That was her top priority.
“Look Cody, this is all I have. Say… that you take this, and… during the summer solstice celebrations, I let you take me out on a date…”

Cody’s face lit up. He immediately tried to suppress it, clearing his throat and trying to play it off.
“Uh… I- uh, alright. Just this last time alright.”
He jabbed a finger at Gwen, trying to look menacing. It didn’t work. He just looked like a child pretending to be an adult.
“And you’ll go out with me?” He asked again, dropping his hand.

Gwen scoffed, shaking her head. “Nuh-uh, one date. Just one.” She raised her index finger. “And if I enjoy it, I reserve the right to let you take me out again.”

Unlikely, but it was her only choice. The only way to sway him in the slightest. Using his feelings for her against him wasn’t exactly following her moral code, but she decided she didn’t feel guilty when he handed her the prescription.

Gwen closed the door to the pharmacists behind her as she stepped out into the night. Wrapping her shawl around her tighter, she began her return home.
Her brain was wracked with thoughts, theories on what exactly was going on. Thinking back to her nightmare the last night, to her daydream earlier that day.

A memory of her nightmare flashed through her head.

Gwen was tugged forwards towards the edge of the wooden platform. She watched the ever-growing crowd assemble, her eyes combing through the people that had the privilege of watching her die.

She spotted a couple familiar faces, most with blank expressions.
One of note, Cody Anderson was quietly blubbering into his shirt. Hey, she’d never have to go on that date with him now. That was a plus.

In her nightmare, she was supposed to go on a date with Cody. Before she was executed. Her nightmare was set in the future, and if it wasn’t a nightmare but a premonition - she had just ensured that would happen.

Her steps echoed on the cobblestone as her brisk footsteps made contact.
If indeed she was having premonitions that meant she would die. She was going to die. The day before the summer solstice. What a way to celebrate.

Well, she couldn’t let that happen. She had a family to provide for. She couldn’t let herself die.

First things first, Gwen grabbed her diary and began to note everything down. Every minute little detail she could remember about her dream.

Something, something else. She was missing something.
A public execution hadn’t been used in decades. They were illegal. Why then? Why now?

It didn’t matter, well, it sort of did. But Gwen had slightly more pressing matters to attend to - staying alive.

The summer solstice was in six days, and she would be executed the day before. So five days before she died. She remembered being chained up for about a day or two, so she’d either be helping that girl the next day or the day after.
Avoiding going out for the next few nights wasn't an option. She had to carry things out as she usually would. She couldn’t let that girl get raped to save her own skin. That would be unforgivable.

Okay, okay, okay… Okay.

She scribbled in her diary again, the words blurring together into a loopy mess.

Gwen’s throat was dry. There was nothing to do. Fight back? These guys were like twice her size.
But they were drunk - and probably spent from their earlier activities. Didn’t exactly even the odds though.

FUCK!

She was backing away, ushering the girl away from the situation. She scanned the houses for anything sitting on the front steps.

Bingo.

There was an axe sitting wedged in a tree stump in the back grass of the nearest house.
As quick as she could she grabbed the handle, trying to pry it free. She strained, pressing her foot against the tree as the axe gave way.
A bead of sweat trailed down her forehead and down her nose.

Shit, shit, oh shit, shit. SHIT!

One of the men had grabbed onto the girl’s arm, the other two backing him up. Brandishing the axe, Gwen did the only thing she could think of, flipping the blade around, she ran to interject, swinging the axe up, and bringing it down on the man’s arm. Hard.

A sickening crunch of bones snapping echoed and a light spray of blood hit Gwen in the face - along with his scream of agony.

“GET BACK!” She screamed, holding out the axe as menacingly as she could. The girl was gingerly touching her shoulders, hiding behind her.
Gwen turned her head slightly, keeping one eye on the men to whisper. “Go, run. You have a clear shot to the main streets, they’re well lit. Take your second right, first left, third right, then you’re in the clear.”

“STAY BACK!” Gwen screeched. Her shrill voice, making them slightly recoil. “I MEAN IT! TAKE ONE MORE FUCKING STEP FORWARDS!”
The girl hadn’t moved, stunned. “Go.”
“But I can’t leave you…”
“You have to!”

The injured man let out a strangled groan of pain, “Gwen Ingrid-Baughan, you’re gonna fucking pay!”
“GO!”

Gwen watched the girl race away into the night as the men retreated.

“Shit…” Gwen pursed her lips. She felt like puking again.
Breathe in, breathe out…

Okay, that’s good. Didn’t throw up this time. I must’ve fallen asleep. Ugh, who knows how much more of this I’ll have to go through.

“So that’ll happen in six days…” Gwen sighed. She fell forwards, her head in her hands.
At least she knew why she was going to be executed. There was no use in changing that outcome. She’d likely end up dead in a ditch anyway - along with that girl.

So she’d have to figure out how to stop the execution… Easier said than done.
Unless… What if… if… What if there was a reason that it was the first public execution in decades.
There was always a chance… that it was an illegal execution. It had to be.
If that was the case. There had to be a way for the coming events to play out without her being punished as severely for it - and she knew exactly what could save her.