Motheaten Memories [Yandere Prince x Enemy Princess Reader]

60. The Execution of Princess Y/N of Vascini.

. . .

A giant crowd had gathered around the front entrance of Ficcioro Palace. They all stood among the columns, that were thicker than tree trunks, holding up the palace walls. The mammoth structure of the palace surrounded a massive cobblestone square on three sides, tiered staircases leading up to where the great throng of people murmured in hushed excitement. In between the two center pillars, an elaborate stage with a fabric screen and gilded chair had been placed, ilidoro sat on the throne clothed in luxurious purple velvet and a golden crown, that had been mended in several places, glinting on his brow in the noon-day sun. He looked down on the square, where a simple wooden block and an axe had been prepared, waiting.

Y/N felt the stare of countless eyes as she was marched out into the square moments later, accompanied by six guards and an executioner with a dark mask over his face. The gathered crowd geared and shouted at her as she was marched towards the platform, but she didn't care to listen. Some of them even threw spoiled food at her, but they were too far away to hit her.

Her H/C hair was a tangled rat's nest and her dress was ripped, stained, and covered in mud. She looked nothing like a princess, but she still stood tall. Her back was straight and her head high, as she walked towards the simple chopping block and the crowd grew silent as the group of eight reached their destination.

"Kneel before the king!" The executioner ordered in a deep growl, shoving her gruffly.

She remained standing, her head raised in defiance. "He is no king of mine," she responded without the slightest trace of emotion as she stared ahead, meeting the indigo eyes of Abeloni's father, Ilidoro.

The executioner raised his hand to strike her but the king cleared his throat and he stopped. "Ahem!" He withdrew a long scroll of paper and read aloud in a full-bodied voice that could easily be heard by all present.  "Princess Y/N of the province formerly known as Vascini, you are charged with living under a false identity, treachery, attempting to poison the Royal Family, bewitching The Crown Prince and taking him hostage, fleeing your imprisonment, and the murder of five Royal Guards during your escape. Do you accept these changes?" He asked as he looked down at where she stood, his expression cold and merciless.

"I do," she answered simply, her voice bold and emotionless. She wasn't scared, nor was she angry. She felt nothing but resignation to her fate. Soon it would be over at least, her life of struggle and sorrow would end and she would be with her mother and Enicia again.

Taken aback by the lack of hysterics, it took Ilidoro a moment to compose himself before he said, "Then I, for the despicable crimes you have committed, sentence you to public beheading." A murmur of excitement ran through the assembled crowd, but it was quickly hushed by his next question, "Any last words?"

"Yes," Y/N nodded her head, she still had so much she wanted to say. She wanted to thank lady Cascia more thoroughly for everything she had done and she wanted to tell Abeloni to live a happy life without her, but she didn't want to implicate either of them as more suspicious than they already were so she decided to address her final words to the man who had taken everything from her. Looking up into King Ilidoro's merciless eyes she spoke, "In this life, I have lived, I regret none of my actions. I have lived, and I have loved despite everything, what more could I have wanted? I accept my death, and I hope that making me pay for my father's crimes will bring you the peace that destroying my country could not." The last part was said in a slightly mocking tone, and she even dared to smile proudly at him after it was said.

"Arrogant brat!" He growled, momentary anger flashing across his face as he balled his hands into fists. Taking several deep breathes he calmed himself and regained his stoic persona."Very well - Executioner," he called, nodding his head at the burly masked man who let out a grunt of understanding.