I do as he says.
He reaches to my collarbone from the loose collar of my torn bloody shirt. His fingers trace the lines that form an M . My brand
I want to scream at his touch. It burns. It hurts. It blinds me.
Maven continues to examine it with his fingers,aware that his touch is a torture to me,"You remember who gave you this?" He whispers.
"You remember who owns you?"
You don't own me ,Maven, I want to tell him.
But as feeling this pain becomes unbearable,I tell him the answer he wants . Maybe he stops the pain.
He smiles deeply,nodding his head.
"I thought you being stubborn was intriguing, I have a hard choice now though."he says pulling away to retreat to his throne.
"Obedience suits you better."
Mare was a sword. She was the face of the rebellion.
Now she's broken . Will someone pick up the pieces? Will her wounds ever heal?