She had to get back before dinner. She had to. Her eyes went to the horizon, watching as the sun was nearly close to leaving. She hurried anxiously, carrying the basket of berries and hoping, praying to the cauldron, that she would not run into anyone. For some odd reason, she woke up with a feeling. She couldn't quite figure out what the feeling was – terror? Anxiety? Paranoia? It's just because of your period, she had told herself. But she had an inkling that deep down, that her period wasn't the reason. There was something else buried inside her, warning her. She had tried staying in the cottage and begged one of her sisters, Aemilia, to do her outdoorsy chores but of course, Aemilia was no help. So instead of making a fuss, she took the basket and went out into the forest to fulfill her ridiculous duties and hoped that she would make it back before sundown.

The feeling had almost gone away when she reached the core of her village. People were out and about – selling merchandise, talking around bon fires. She ducked her head nervously as village leaders passed by. Her eyes looked at the ground as they strolled past, rambling about something unimportant. The village leaders were far from protective, they were cruel. It only took one second of eye contact for them to find a reason to kill her. Thankfully, the village leaders relatively liked her family. Her dad was the best and most popular blacksmith in the village, and had gotten her out of trouble numerous times. But she had her own secrets to hide.

"Selene." She froze. She was almost to her cottage when the voice, that terrifying voice, interrupted her. Oh Cauldron. No.

But she turned around with the best smile she could muster and looked at the young man behind her, "Oh, hello, Hunter." He stopped in front of her, flashing her a cocky smile. He was far from beautiful, as he was incredible skinny and had disgustingly oily hair. His eyes were small and beady and yet, he was highly convinced that he was the best man in the village.

When he walked closer to her, she winced at his filthy breath.

"How are you today, Selene?" His eyes didn't find hers, though. Instead, his eyes scanned her body generously, looking at everything from her curves to her bright mouth. She wasn't ignorant enough to believe that she wasn't beautiful – she knew she was gorgeous. Her white-blonde hair attractive most men's eyes, while most girls in the village had dusty brown hair. Her eyes, a bright blue, were unusual in her area. And while she was used to telling off boys to stop looking at her, she couldn't say a word against Hunter.

"Good," she said shortly, uninterested. "And you?" His face crinkled when he smiled.

"Better that you're here," he said, and his eyes flickered around her shoulder. "Ah, you still have those wings, don't you?" She took a cautious step back, forcing a protective smile.

"Oh, yes, those," she said tightly. "How is your father doing?" His face shifted and he rolled his eyes.

"Being chief leader of course. Did you know the High Lord of the Night Court was coming at dawn? He's probably going to award my father with gold for his accomplishments. As if he needs any more." While the rest of us starve.

"Well, isn't that great! Well, I'm sorry, Hunter. But I have to go." She took a sharp turn away from him and tried taking a large stride towards her cottage but then his calloused, dirt-tinted hands pulled her by the shoulder. She sucked in a breath and swerved towards him. She scrunched her body together as if to protect her valuable wings.

"Yes?" She said, but this time coolly. His eyes flashed at her with a hint of impatience, but his smile remained.

"Where are you going?" He said, almost tauntingly. "I'm the future leader of this village, you know. Why leave so soon? Stay and have fun at the bonfire with us." She looked at the large fire where all the men, men who had spent their entire day training, had stayed. She would've had some respect for them if they didn't have the belief that they were gods. Most of them were foot soldiers and wouldn't make it anywhere but bottom rank, but they still held a sense of unearned glory that angered her.

"I have to get back to my father. He-"

"Oh, yes, your father," Hunter said, snarling now. "Did he ever reply to my offer by the way?" She couldn't help but scuff.

"Your offer?" She asked. His lips pursed, but there was a hint of amusement on his face.

"I offered him a proposal," he said. Her eyes squinted at him coolly.

"A proposal? Of marriage?"

"Well, yes, of course. You're the most beautiful girl in the village and I, as you know, will be the leader of this village once my father passes." Which will probably be soon as you'll probably be the one to kill him. "And I need a wife."

"I haven't bled yet." It was a lie, of course. This was her second month she had bled and nobody, not even her mother, knew about it. It was too dangerous to risk, as most girls had their wings taken off as soon as she had her first bleeding. Thankfully, she had a plan to leave the village soon enough. All she had to do was bid her time until she could get the gold and then disappear forever.

"But you will soon, yes?" She shivered as he put his firm hand on her thin hips. She pursed her lips angrily.

"In all due respect, I can't control when and when not my body decides to turn into a woman," she said back, her voice sharper. "Now, if you don't mind-"

"Oh, I certainly mind." The hand on her hip tightened, pulling her closer with a yank. She grunted.

"You're hurting me!" She objected, her voice loud. But he leaned close to her, his eyes empty of emotion. Cold, cold like he had never felt anything at all.

"I'm still talking to you," he growled. Without even thinking about it, before it even registered in her mind, she pulled the basket of berries and swung it at his head. It collided with him and despite it not being heavy enough to cause any real damage, he staggered back. She took a step back as well, heaving as she digested the horror in front of her. Did she really just do that? Did she really just through a basket at the chief's son's head? As Hunter gripped his forehead, she swerved around and took two long strides before two hands caught her.

"Let go of me!" She shouted, yelling at the two unfamiliar men as they dragged her back to face Hunter. Rubbing his forehead, Hunter strutted towards her angrily, his teeth barred.

"How dare you, you peasant bitch!" His hand went towards her as she squirmed and ripped the worn dress. It only took one grip to rip it down the middle. She sucked in her breath.

"It was an accident," she said, her voice firm. "Let me go-" But then Hunter ripped off her dress fully, scratching her as she did so. The people around her began to stop and stare. Some snickered as they watched

"How dare you touch me!" He roared. Behind them, Selene noticed how Hunter's father glanced towards them. His eyes weren't cold like Hunter's, but yet held a type of anger that she had never felt. A heartless anger. Her eyes found his, not pleadingly but pointedly. He looked away immediately, not a single care in his eyes as he left his tent.

"It was a misunderstanding, Hunter," she said, her voice nicer now. "I've had a long day. I apologize. Now, let me go." But then his hands grabbed her with his dirty nails, pulling her away from the beefy hands holding onto her shoulders. She screeched as he pulled her close. His eyes scanned her more disgustingly now, mostly at her panties. She watched as he unbuckled his own belt. Heat, a warningly heat, went through her body as she now understood the consequences. She should have foresaw this – she should've just walked away.

"Hunter," she said slowly, trying to hide the fear in her voice, "My father is the blacksmith. Would you really-do you really want to humiliate him this way?" But Hunter didn't care. Her heart beating fast and her breathing now suffocating her as she couldn't calm down, tried ripping away from Hunter but the two men behind her were blocking her from moving.

"No-" He reached for her. She squirmed.

"My father will-" And then he took her panties off and he laughed. He looked at the underwear, now smeared with blood. She inhaled raggedly, all the hope in her body vanishing. She felt empty, weightless. He was going to take everything, she thought. Not just her virginity, she could live with being ostracized as she was planning to leave anyways, but she couldn't live without her wings.

"This is perfect," he said, his voice filled with playful cruelty. She felt the tears fill her eyes. She hadn't cried in years.

"I didn't know-"

"You didn't know that you had bled?" He finished. A tear was falling down her cheek.

"No," she lied, her voice tight, "I didn't." But then his eyes glittered at her, jumping in amusement. Without even turning his attention to one of his men, he spoke.

"Go tie her to the wooden post. Take off her wings," he demanded. Without a hesitation, she screamed. At the top of her lungs, her screams rang the core of the village. She kicked and hit the men that were holding her as they carried her thin body to the post. Behind her, somewhere, from behind the tents on the other side, she heard a man, whose voice was dry and irritable, speak. For some reason, she heard it over the others. It was strong, unique.

"And yet you claim that your villagers aren't savages, Peleg." She didn't know whose voice it was, nor cares, but it rang over the others.

"They-they aren't, my lord." A second man – Petyr, replied. "My villagers are the best men in Prythian."

"Are you claiming your men are superior over me?" Selene stopped paying attention to the voice as soon as she saw Hunter pull out his sword. Her chest rose up and down rapidly. A crowd had begun to form around them, watching like it was a play.

"Please," she said, tears falling down her face fast. "We're friends, Hunter. Remember? We played together as children." But Hunter was too amused to hear her words.

"You're nothing but a dirty whore," Hunter spat. She tried making her words, her pleading words, leave her lips. But then she felt her chin rise, anger filling her body again. A whore? Simply because she was repulsed by his proposal?

"I'd rather be a whore than be with you," she said, spitting at him square in the face. His gasped as he wiped his face hurriedly, and she noticed how embarrassment filled his cheeks. Despite the situation, she felt a hint of victory.

"You'll pay for that," he said, his lips curled angrily. But then a voice rang in her ears again – the deep, husky voice that interrupted the rest.

"What do you expect out of me? Gold? Not that I'm not grateful that your men supply my real warriors as target practice, but you are just lucky that I have the compassion to even stand in your filthy village," the voice said, making Hunter pause. "And where is this brave son of yours, Pimberton? I was under the impression that he cared to be your successor?"

"Oh, he's right over-"

"Let's get this over with fast," Hunter snarled. He rose his sword in the air as his men angled her body towards him. Her wings, which she thought for so many years would be protected, were now in the open. He was going to rip them off, cripple her.

"NO!" She screamed, just as the sword went down. She watched as the sword wooshed down, and she cried as he thrashed it at her, but just as the sword met her wings, red filled her vision. The bounds holding her to the post snapped. She shifted away, shielding her eyes as she felt her body soak in liquid. Slowly, shaking, she uncovered her eyes and looked in front of her. Her mouth gaped.

All she saw was red. She looked up, noticing the red rain still pouring down on her, covering her body from head to toe. She rose her fingers, smearing the substance from her cheek and then putting it to her nose directly. She winced as she inhaled. Blood.

Hunter and his gang were no longer in front of her and it took her about three seconds, as she noticed the torn clothes on the ground, to realize that the blood that soaked her – the blood that covered her body so much that she couldn't see her own skin, was theirs. They had exploded. Turned into bloody rain. But how?

And then she heard the scream. She looked up, seeing Petyr only about twenty feet from her. His hand was to his lips but then her eyes shifted to the figure beside him. He was tall – taller than any man she had ever met. His skin was tan like a high ranked Illyarian and his dark brown hair tickled his brow swiftly. His eyes, the color of choal but yet still beautiful, stared at her. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes connected with hers, and she knew by the gleam in his eyes that he had saved her. She had to admit, though she wasn't usually swayed by beauty, he was attractive. And his clothes, as if his natural looks didn't reveal his identity already, were made of fine, pure-black material that made her gape. She knew who he was.

This wasn't the first time she had ever seen him. She had seen him once before, when she was just a child and he was probably her age. He looked no different, either because he was just as powerful as he was years before or because he was immortal.

"Why, Percival, you know this is no way to treat a lady," he purred at Petyr, smirking. She blinked, his words waking her up from the nightmare. Petyr shuddered, stumbling backwards and putting his hands in the air cowardly.

"I knew nothing of this, my lord," Petyr lied, his voice shaking, "Please, don't-" But then the High Lord of the Night Court started towards her. He walked with a swagger and a strut that even Hunter couldn't pull off. She shrunk back against the post, now very aware how close to death she truly was. For the first time in years, she wished that she was ordinary.

The High Lord stopped only about half of a foot away from her, bending his knees a little bit just to be at level with her. There was a genuine smile on his face – too genuine. So genuine that it almost looked predatory. His dark eyes twinkled at her and she could see a layer of greed that reflected back at her.

"And what's your name, beautiful?" He said softly, his voice caressing as if a lover. A slight shiver ran down her spine but thankfully when she responded her fear didn't show.

"Selene." His eyes danced around her face, as if trying to absorb her. Unlike the rest of the men here, he didn't look at her sexually. But as if she was something interesting, maybe even humorous. She swallowed.

"Selene," he repeated, his voice gentle, "And what do you do here, Selene?" Her fingers were shaking.

"I-I am the daughter of the village's black smith, my lord," her voice shook. He nodded understandably.

"And why, my dear Selene, did those wretched peasants tie you to a post?" Peasants. She almost laughed at the word. They weren't peasants to them – they were the leaders of the village, people who held local power. People who abused their power and slaughtered children for sport. But she guessed compared to him that they were nothing more than spit on the ground.

"My wings," she said quietly, practically a whisper, "they were going to cut off my wings because I'm a girl." Her eyes fell to the ground, sure at this point that he was mocking her. That he would take her wings just for the fun of it – just to amuse himself, and then murder her after. But then she heard him cluck his tongue disapprovingly.

"Now, that's not very fair is it, Selene?" He asked. She shook her head slowly.

"Please," she said, nearly begging, "I just want my wings. I don't do anything bad here, I'm just the blacksmith's daughter. Please don't-"

"Do you know who I am, Selene?"

"The High Lord of the Night Court," she choked, a drip of Hunter's blood falling into her mouth. His terrifying yet genuine smile lengthened, nodding.

"Exactly, I am the High Lord of the Night Court. Now, I agree with you, Selene. I think cutting off your wings would be rather barbaric, don't you think?"

"Yes."

"And so, do you also agree that I should burn down this entire damn village for their shameful acts?" The sentence was as cold as ice. It was clearly rhetorical as he looked back at Petyr. Petyr's entire face turned milky white. He opened his mouth quickly, but nothing came out. The High Lord of the Night Court had must've silenced him with his magic as Petyr gripped his throat anxiously, begging to speak.

"No," Selene said quickly, her eyes wide with horror and holding out her palm innocently, "Please, my family lives here. My father, my mother, my sisters. They didn't do anything wrong, there are many good people in this village! Please, spare me. Spare us." The High Lord looked back at her, his eyes filled with delight.

"Are you sure? It would only take half a thought-" His voice was so casual, so calm, that it made bile rise to her throat.

"Yes!" She argued, and then sucked in her breath as she noticed she interrupted him. "I'm sorry for interrupting, my lord. I just – I'm sure." He tilted his head, nodding.

"Very well. As you wish, my beautiful Selene. Now, there is a nasty amount of blood on you," he said, looking at her body now. She looked down, realizing how horrifically nude she was. And in front of the most powerful man in the land too, maybe even the world. Embarrassment filled her face as his eyes ran up and down her body. There wasn't much to see as blood nearly covered all of it, but his eyes were lingering at every detail that he could depict. She looked around her desperately, watching as every person in the village stared at her in terror.

"It's alright," she said, giving a nervous laugh. "It's just blood." His eyebrows furrowed down and he shook his head.

"No, it is not okay, beautiful. Let's get you a nice, warm bath and clean you up," he said. But when he heard the utter silence that followed his words, he turned around with a snarl and stared at Petyr with a look worse than death. "Didn't you hear me, Philander? This poor girl needs a bath. Now."

~*~ discidium ~*~

Please ignore the errors! I'll fix them later. Please please please review if you want more! That's the only way I know if I should right more or not! Again, sorry for the errors. Leave a review!