Once upon a time, there were two rival lands. One for you, and the other, the kingdom of a fair young man who had just become the king only about a year ago.

But why? you wondered. Why must he be fairer than any fair lady anyone has ever seen in their pitiful lives? Why must he be the one known for his benevolence, and you end up being the so-called "evil" one feared across the land? It was not fair for the historians to name him "one of the fairest to ever cross these lands" yet never even bring up your name in their writings, ignoring you all your life yet writing poems of him already...

The minstrels, they all had one description for him; "As precious and scarce as saffron's threads, as captivating and addictive as opium's allure." You've heard a thousand times how his soft laughter melts the hearts of men and women like a sugar cube dipped in tea, yet you still refuse to believe it. You deserved that attention, the poems and the respect, to be treated like perfection.

And so you made up your mind; He must die, his large sparkling eyes sewn shut and his name wiped away from any book ever written. Actually, all those who serve him must meet the same fate, you thought, all those who called you evil must see what "evil" truly is.

Your siege took months, with the young king fighting hordes of your men by himself to buy time for his family to run. You could not believe your eyes; Him, above a white horse, fighting like a true hero from a myth told to children before sleep. It was painful to witness how even his fall was filled with grace, going down like an eagle fallen from the sky, held down by an entire army so he could not run from you.

As everything went quiet, your mind brought back several of your own tragedies as you watched the young man struggle to protect his eyes one last time without his bounded hands, hands that were held apart by two powerful soldiers, shaking from realization yet never begging for mercy, never asking for your kindness. Was he always this...small? So easy to sacrifice...so beautiful even in pain? Your army and your captors await that same ruthless energy to strike once again, but your doubts only get worse, unable to wish death upon the one person you had begun to finally feel for.

It felt wrong. It felt so horribly wrong as you watched the young prisoner get thrown around, unable to even use his hands as he was dragged like livestock until he fell before your feet. You were a monster, and he was far too small and naive to be anything but a prey compared to you. He was a lamb finally caught by the wolves that were no longer hunting for food but the enjoyment of the hunt, something a lamb could not even comprehend. At that moment, your heart finally subjugated your reasoning, bleeding within your chest for your enemy as your internal anguish began forcing you into finding an alternative, a way to save the one you brought into this misery yourself.