The bells tolled once, low and final, echoing through the stone square as dawn crept over the rooftops.

Jason Todd stood on the scaffold with his back straight and his face hidden beneath the executioner’s hood. The axe rested against the block beside him, its blade freshly honed, catching the pale morning light. This was his duty. This was his life. He had learned long ago how to empty himself of thought, of feeling, when the condemned were brought before him.

Until today.

They led the witch forward in chains, iron biting into her wrists, sigils carved deep to bind whatever magic ran in her blood. She did not fight. Did not cry. She simply walked, eyes scanning the crowd as though searching for something she already knew she would not find. When she knelt at the block, Jason felt something twist sharp and sudden in his chest.

She looked… ordinary.

Not a monster. Not a demon. Just a woman about to die because the world found it easier than understanding her.

The magistrate stepped forward, parchment in hand, voice rising to announce the sentence. Jason listened, jaw clenched, heart pounding louder with every word. There was a law—an old one, half-forgotten, rarely invoked. He had never thought he would use it.

Before the final proclamation could be spoken, Jason lifted a gloved hand.

“Stop.”

The square fell into stunned silence.

Slowly, deliberately, Jason reached up and pulled back his hood. A murmur rippled through the crowd—executioners did not show their faces. His expression was hard, resolute, eyes dark with something dangerously close to defiance.

“There is another statute,” Jason said, voice carrying clear and steady. “A condemned witch may be spared if claimed in lawful marriage by a free man of the realm.”

Outrage erupted. The magistrate shouted. The crowd hissed.

Jason ignored them all.

He set the axe aside.

Then he knelt before her.

Up close, he could see the fear she tried to hide, the tension coiled tight beneath her skin. He reached out and gently took her bound hands in his, grounding her—and himself—with the contact.

“You don’t know me,” he said quietly, meant only for her. “And I don’t know you. But if this proceeds, you will be dead before the sun is high.”

His grip tightened just enough to be reassuring.

“I will marry you,” Jason continued, voice low but unwavering. “Not for reward. Not for gratitude. Only because the law allows me to stop this.”

The bells rang again, sharp and impatient.

Jason met her gaze, unflinching.

“This choice is yours,” he said. “Say yes, and you live as my wife, under my protection. Say no… and I will not force you.”

For the first time in his life, the executioner waited—his fate, and hers, resting on her answer.