Unjustly Accused; Part 1
Title: Unjustly Accused
Author: inlove_n_inhate
Plot: Miranda Priestly, the head of the House of Priestly, has made a grave mistake and her new young lover may end up paying the price.
Author's Note: Special thanks to yesssirrr for the help for this chapter as well as the introduction's revision. Hope it came out better than before.
Part 1
‘I Surrender’
Andy
I don’t understand how this has happened.
Last night everything was perfectly well, the two couples staying at the Inn were tucked up in their rooms and I was just cleaning up after them when the jailer came into the Inn with two of his lackeys. My father greeted them politely and asked if they’d like something to eat, since we had plenty of food left over. If they didn’t take the food I was going to go around the town with the remains in a basket to give to the homeless and hungry in our streets.
It didn’t surprise me when he began to accept my father’s offer before realizing something or other and turning him down. He was a mighty fine actor and a rather ugly attitude. He was a pot bellied short elderly gentlemen, except there was nothing gentlemanly worthy about him. He was a thief and a crook. He took more money than the Emperor demanded and bought himself rare items from Egypt and Persia. He had little hair left and the strands that did remain on his head were a peppery color that did little for him. I couldn’t recall his first name, but I recalled his last name with ease the moment he stepped into the Inn. Ravitz; sounded like Rat to me and seemed fitting for someone of his character.
I’d turned back to cleaning the tables and helping mother put the chairs up off the floor so Mia could sweep when it happened. I was grabbed up quickly and shoved towards the exit of the Inn. It wasn’t until I was grabbed about the arms and forced towards the door of my own family owned Inn that I realized that turning away from the villain of the village was a bad idea. I had no inkling of an idea why I was being taken away by the jailer’s lackeys and did what anyone in my position would have done.
I fought back.
I pulled my arms and the weight of the boys trying to hold me still while dragging me out of my father’s Inn, while my mother yelled and screamed at my father to do something and then at the men dragging me away when my father stood watching. Mia, my cousin who’d come to live with us years before, took up the broom she’d been about to use to sweep the floor and hit the men dragging me away with it several times before my father grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. He pleaded with the jailer all the while for my sake and now for Mia’s. The jailer just scratched at his none-existent beard and eyed my cousin up and down before he met my cousins’ frightened eyes and my father’s outraged ones.
The pig!
I fought harder then, and when the two boys doing the jailers dirty work lifted me into the air I kicked and caught the jailer right at the shoulder. He turned his attention back to his workers and I and away from Mia and I was grateful he did. Rather have him looking at me than have his eyes undressing my baby cousin with his eyes. He glared his beady black eyes at me and puffed out air as he snarled. I just glared at him and let out a yell of frustration when my arms were pinned to my sides and placed firmly on the ground unable to kick out at him again. My face must have showed my exertion for my body heaved with it as my heart raced because of it.
“You whore.” He spat at me, spittle escaping his mouth. I was overjoyed at the several feet between us that allowed me to escape without his saliva covering my own. I wasn’t even bothered by his easy use of the word whore to describe me. If anything I wanted to laugh because to him all women were whores, what made me any different? What made his use this time, towards me any more cutting than it was all the previous times he’d described me as one. He only ever called me one when he was drunk or angered by my rejection.
Last night was no different.
Except…
He hadn’t come looking for me to join him in his bed, rather he came to lock up and kill me. I knew by the sneer on his face as he stepped closer to me that he was enjoying this far too much and there was nothing I could do about it.
I could not help but fear my fate now that it is in the hands of vile men.
“Thankfully I’m not yours, and never will be!” He didn’t like my comment one bit. I had barely the time to prepare myself for it when it happened. He hit me. My father was livid and was about to move towards him when my mother grabbed his arm and held him back. It wouldn’t do for both of us to be carted off to jail. I kept my head turned in the direction it had been jerked for a collection of long moments before turning back to look at him. My defiant glare and sneer still present even as my cheek began to darken in color in the shape of his hand. “Pig.” I spate at his face and he wiped at my spittle before waving his hand, his order to the lackeys to bring me away.
My father called out as I was dragged off towards the local prison, promising that he’d have this sorted and I foolishly believed him.
Now, here I am standing upon the wooden boards that will soon give way towards my untimely death. It frightens me and yet I am calm.
The prison cell in which I slept in last night was damp and cool. My body felt a chill the moment I was thrown into the dreary dark dampness and it has yet to leave me. I feel it even now as I stand before my peers. Many faces that I’ve known for years stare up at me with a cascade of different emotions while I stand here reflecting on what brought me here.
It was not my actions against the Empire, for I’ve broken no laws. It was the corrupt nature of the hierarchy of my village. They value money and power more than a human life-an innocent life! My doings, my fight for justice against the oppressed is why I am here. It is why they wish to kill me. I don’t lie down and take what the crooks and scoundrels do here. My willingness to denounce the Vassal and his darker subjects put me in danger of exile. Now I see death was also a danger put upon my back as well.
It has always been their intent to deter me, but it is her doing that has allowed them their chance. I see now that they only needed one; just one chance to blacken my name and stop me from continuing to fight against them. I just hadn’t thought death would be my punishment. No matter the courage I thought I would hold when my time came to die, it has left me here alone in fear. I am coward. Yet I cannot blame myself for my fear. My regret at not having done more than I have. Not having thought to protect my family from this blow somehow.
I shudder to think that the woman I’ve loved for so long has betrayed me for her own wiles. I knew it was too much to expect, for someone of her stature to love someone like me. I don’t care for money. I don’t care for materials. I care about things that one cannot buy. I care about people and doing the right thing no matter how hard it is. She, obviously, does not. And I am a fool for believing that she might.
Tears falls from my eyes as I close them swiftly, unable to bear the thought of her betrayal. I don’t understand her willingness to give me up for something I haven’t committed. All I could imagine she would gain is a firmer ear to the Vassal of the village and perhaps more ducas. But what would they mean to her who has so many already? I don’t know. All I know is she signed my death warrant when she helped the jailer and the Vassal fabricate evidence against me when she refused to tell the truth. She refused to acknowledge me as her lover-which by all the Gods in the sky hurts the most. She does not love me. If she did she would have told them the truth. If she loved me like she proclaimed she did than my life would not be forfeit to these scoundrels.
Her refusal gave the Vassal and jailer exactly what they were looking for. How they had known about our affair only surprises me slightly. It would not be hard to follow me to her estate. When she informed them that I had not been spending my nights at her estate it allowed them the chance to find false testimony. Testimony from men and women alike that claimed to have been my bedmates on those same nights I spent with Miranda.
Last night I had been scheduled to arrive at her estate after I finished handing out the remains of the Inn’s hot meals to those less fortunate. I never made it.
When I did not arrive I am sure she assumed I had decided to end our arrangement. For I see that is what it was. An arrangement. I was nothing to her but someone to help warm her bed on cold nights. I was nothing more than a conquest that she won and cared nothing about.
To think that I had feared for her heartbreak! To think that as I sat curled up in the corner of my cell last night my thoughts lingered on her emotional state rather than my own fate. I had cried against my knees in fear that she would believe I left her; that I did not love her. I cried for her misfortune and my own because of her possible despair.
Of all the things!
I wish I could curse myself for my stupidity. The jailer and Vassal had a wonderful time for it. So why shouldn’t I curse it?
When the jailer and Vassal had walked into the dimness of the jail and stood before my cell I had looked up with hatred. I looked at them, hating what they stood for, but more for what they were keeping me from. It wasn’t until they jokingly poked at my glare and asked if I had somewhere to be that my minds proceedings faltered. It was when they laughed at my shocked expression after they’d informed me of my lover’s assistance in their plan that I unwillingly broke.
Breaking…
I hadn’t known I could break until that moment. I had no anger, like I’d seen many do when broken. I had nothing. I said nothing. I just looked at them. Longing for everything to be a horrid nightmare so that when I woke up I could feel the sun on my face and wake to find Miranda in my arms. I wished for it to be a lie. I wished whole-heartedly for it to be a lie, their way to break what was left of me. I had been willing to curse them for their lies. I had almost laughed at them for even attempting to corrupt the love that we shared for each other. I had been about to tell them exactly where they could spend eternity when they pulled it out. Their parchment!
That godforsaken parchment!
It was their proof of my lover’s betrayal, signed and sealed with her hand and crest. Seeing her hand and crest on that statement was what broke me. I closed my mouth and stared at the parchment mystified and suspicious. If it hadn’t been for the seal and the script that’d mesmerized me when seen after watching my lover sign certificates of authenticity for her horses-if it hadn’t been for that I’d have easily dismissed their attempt to belittle me. But it was there, it was her hand and it had signed away my life, even if unknowingly. I hadn’t even been mentally present when they laughed at my expense. I had already retreated into myself. Their voices and taunts nothing but indescribable whispers to me as I curled in on myself and silently cried.
They had won. I had already understood their triumph when shoved into that dingy cell, but I hadn’t completely understood their victory until that signed parchment was thrown in my face. My lover’s statement, her lying to my face every eve and morn as I sit, lie, or stand beside her, counteracted by that cursed parchment. Miranda did not love me. She did not care for me. She had only wanted a companion for her lonely nights, nothing more.
By the Gods how I cried that night!
I cared not that I was falling into the jailer or Vassal’s plans. That I was letting them win the war instead of just the battle. I cared for nothing but the pain of my broken heart. I broke. Oh but how I longed, in that moment, to be whole again.
Now, my family is in front of the crowd. My mother is crying on my father’s shoulder and my father has tears in his eyes as he looks at me. There was nothing he could do. Not while our jailer is corrupt and is only doing the bidding of the Vassal. The two conniving bastards are putting me to death for crimes I did not commit! With evidence that is fabricated! I’ve done nothing wrong in the eyes of the law. I have not spoken out against the Empire. I pledged my allegiance to the Empire long ago. It is the unscrupulousness of the Vassal and the hierarchy here in my village that I speak out again.
I should have known better. In many areas.
I sigh, and keep my eyes closed as the crowd continues to hum with conversations, expectations, and even some eagerness. I feel sick to my stomach but they’ve taken too much from me. They will not have this. I will not give them my dignity. They’re taking what they can from me, but they will not take my humility. They took my dignity, love, and future from me. They will not have this. Neither will they take my hope for a better future, even if I am no longer included in that future.
I am surprised.
There has been no rotten fruit thrown at me. I am loved in my village and the conversations that I hear amongst the crowd are surely those that are astounded to see me upon the gallows waiting. I don’t know why they’re still waiting. They’ve had me here for ages already! The longer I stand here the antsier I’ve become.
I had been ready to die.
When they came for me this early morn I had been ready. I had held my head high and walked out of my cell with a dignity that they could not touch. When the dusk of the dawn touched my skin and I saw the gallows in the distance, I was ready. When I climbed the steps to the center of the gallows, I was ready. When I looked out at the crowd and saw familiar faces, I was ready. When I looked out towards the village gates and saw the sun rising…
…I wasn’t ready! This could not be the last sunrise I witnessed! When I felt the kiss of the sun upon my face, I wasn’t ready. It couldn’t be the last time I stood in the sun or felt it caress my skin. When I thought of my family’s sorrow and how Mia would be left to take the brunt of my work at the Inn, I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t kept my promise to teach Mia how to work an ax to chop firewood with less hassle. When I looked out at the faces of my dear friends, many of them with tears in their eyes or upon their faces, I wasn’t ready. They had been there for me for so long. Many of them supported me while I conducted the affair with Miranda all the while still unsure but willing to support me no matter their own thoughts. When I looked out and saw the Vassal and jailer standing to the side of the crowd smiling, very pleased with themselves, I wasn’t ready. I held such hate for them that I knew I would go to Tarturus in a hand woven basket. When I thought of Miranda’s children, Caroline and Cassidy, I wasn’t ready. I wouldn’t be able to uphold my promise to take them swimming in the lake, or to never hurt their mother. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, but I think that Miranda will feel sorrow after she loses me forever. Even if it is only for a moment! She will regret her actions. I hope she will be able to pass through her quilt, because no matter her betrayal I still love her dearly and wish her no ill will.
So there are many reasons why I am not ready, but reasons why I am ready. At least I’ll forever hold the knowledge of love-at it’s worst and best.
With a quick flick of a wrist and a man’s great heave of might the floorboards beneath my feet give way and I am dead. And all it took was a quick flick of a man’s wrist as permission and another’s strength to end my life. It seems too trivial and yet it is enough to take what I have treasured for my twenty-five summers-my life.
I am ready.
I look out steadily towards the horizon content to know that the last sight I will see is the beautiful rising of the sun. The flames of its bright red and orange filling the white covered blue sky touching the tips of the highest mountains, the green shrubbery of the mountain creating a beautiful contrast of colors. As I slowly fall beneath the view of the gallows I see a lone figure running towards the village square. An echo of voice telling time, for the plea is so heartfelt and passionate it must be to Time herself, to wait. Time does not slow for them and I feel sorry for her as their plea goes unanswered.
They are too late.
TBC…
What did you think? Don't be shy, let me know please. It's been a long time since I've written an Era fic and in this pov so any comments on wat to add/change/anything is always apprechiated.
Happy New Year!