the light was dim inside her house. Her husband was a knight, and he often came back home a little injured or very tired. The remembrance of him , last night, was vivid. The way he touched her , the way he moved was just astonishing to her. He never actually mistreated her but he still had this sort of authority, even superiority on everyone that faced him, but he would never use it against her. She was sitting on a bench in the garden, taking in the surroundings as she looked around . Some people selling bread, others selling fabric or clothes. Yelling for people to buy from em, but she didn't move. A red-haired woman was being executed, again. But she didn't see it all. She never did, her house was a little far from the city's center. And as you, her lover, turned back on the same white horse, she smiled. Clearly impatient and excited to see you.