It was quiet, not for the small tapping of the stick Archebold carried in his free hand as he guided her to overlook the rest of the land. So nonchalantly, he looped his arm over hers, gently taking her wrist in a move that caused Rexanna to turn her face to him again, the slight squeeze of pressure of his hand around her wrist, her pulse beating perhaps a bit nervously at being this close to a stranger. Worse things had happened, she assured herself, but she was still with a bit of unease as he began to speak of myths and stigmas. Her attempt to keep her gaze away from him, to hide the embarrassment and shame that crept along her cheeks in a blush from the brand upon her chest, hadn’t gone unnoticed it seemed. His voice was almost soothing, the way it spoke of scars and the stories they told, and Rexanna found herself chewing on her bottom lip slightly.
Archebold spoke of the scars telling stories, the shaping of who you were, and she nodded along perhaps a bit absentmindedly – flashing back to the time when her betrothed had the guards hold her down and brand her with the “C”. C for Crown, C for the Prince’s name, C for captive, C for corrupt. Her cheeks flushed lightly, and she inhaled deeply, looking back over to him and pasting on a smile with a nod. It would take time, she was sure, before she was fine with the brand. But for now, it served only as a reminder that despite everything, she was still a part of something else. Archebold leaned in slightly and Rexanna continued to hold her head up high, still retaining that smile across her face. “
Thank you.” She offered a bit quietly, catching his wink at the end.
Thankfully, however, he answered her question. Though the answers weren’t entirely what she had hoped for from this regal man that stood beside her, that lead her through the rubble. He spoke of slaves and bound to others unaware of what he was – of monsters in men, of rebellion, of
freedom and she found her gaze slipping toward him once again. At least the man was honest, she’d give him that, yet she nodded. “
Perhaps you and I have a bit more in common than initially thought.” She admitted, a small laugh escaping her lips.
Rexanna wasn’t a monster, but she had been a slave, had strived for rebellion and freedom, had hoped for a better future than there was. And she had done anything she could to get this far. So she smiled to him, an actually honest one this time. “
What kind of monster are you?” She asked, curiosity gleaming in the sapphire pools of her eyes, wondering if he was the type of monster she had ran from. The kind who had been promised a bride of nobility, to be swindled and raze the earth for it, for vengeance. “
I think there’s monsters in everyone. What kind of monster makes the difference.” She admitted, glancing away thoughtfully before sliding her attention toward him again. “
Some have said I’m one, but I’ve known far worse – I’ve loved far worse.” Her voice was soft, contemplative as she looked toward him. “
I can’t say much for what happened to you, but from one previous slave to another, you do what you have to do to survive and damn the consequences.” She added with a thoughtful dip of her head.
Archebold
