Chapter Text
Torches illuminate the courtyard in the Tower of London as people traverse to play games and drink their wine. For some, like the noblemen, half drunk, and walking in their finest attire, they approach one another to shake hands and remark on the affairs of the past week. Political plotting, scheming, the dethroning and sentencing to death of their former queen was the subject of conversation, the reason they were there at the tower that evening. To celebrate the rise and quick fall of who would soon be known in the history books as Britain’s nine days queen- Lady Jane Grey.
For others, their garments serve another purpose. For the Ethians mingling amongst Verity their clothes are a source of disguise to cloak their claws, hide their feathers and pray that tonight their identities remain hidden. Lest they suffer the same fate that one of their own was about to endure tonight. For every Ethian, no matter if you were high or low born you were deigned to live with the mentality that it was every man for himself. And should one of them be found out it was the same protocol every time: turn a blind eye and don’t engage.
~~~~~
Making her grand entrance into the courtyard was Jane’s cousin Mary- now crowned Queen. She smiles victoriously as her eyes roam over the vast expanse of the yard, overlooking the celebration before her and the deck which Jane will be executed upon. The demise of her cousin brings the Queen great joy to think about. After her brother had passed her over as well as their sister the title of ruler went to their Ethian loving cousin Jane Grey. And from there she had spent the next nine days conniving to get herself the throne she was meant to sit on all along.
From the start, Jane was everything Mary had despised about this world. She supported Ethian rights, going as far as to invite them to the banquet ball, aligning herself as an ally to those abominations. Standing where Mary should have been standing, wearing the jewels she should have been wearing. Worst of all humiliating her in front of what was supposed to be her court. But tonight Mary was going to have the last laugh.
Walking behind Mary was Jane’s family- her mother, her youngest sister Margaret, and Mary’s sister Bess, all following behind rigidly, their spirits squashed like a grape between her fingers. Every day for as long they lived she was going to make sure the sight they were about to behold would cross their minds from the moment they awoke to the dreams they inhabited in their sleep. This wasn’t only an execution to eliminate a rival, it was a lesson. She wanted to see the ax cut clean through Jane’s neck, see her head roll, most desirably to lick her blood and see the horror on her family’s face. She wanted this to be a memory that would haunt their every waking move for the rest of their lives.
~~~~~
Mary’s lover - Seymour- follows the women at the tail-end of the line. His entrance, unlike the Grey women and the princess, though solemn, is that of an easy stroll, without any trace of fear or paranoia. Ever so casually he turns to see the defeated form of Guildford Dudley, husband to Lady Jane Grey, tied to the post of his execution pyre. The smirk present on Seymour’s face is more than enough evidence to prove just how delighted and pleased he is with himself in regards to the events that brought him to this evening. Earlier that night Guildford had attempted to escape Seymour’s underground Ethian zoo but was defeated and strung up like a dead deer awaiting his insides to be gutted.
Guildford’s crime - for being born an Ethian and getting exposed as such was sentenced to the same fate as his wife; though his demise would be more of a spectacle than hers. With the touch of a torch the pyre would set ablaze and Guildford would be engulfed in its flames. A simple yet effective method to get rid of the Ethian’s spirit so it would never have the chance to reach heaven.
Guildford watched as Seymour glanced at him for a short moment, glaring back with all the hatred he could muster in his defeated state. Once more he attempts futilely to test the strength of the rope to no avail, watching with disdain as Seymour plodded along.
~~~~~
At this point he’d been standing there for hours, unable to do anything but watch as people gathered to drink and gawk at him like he were some exhibit. He could see their looks of contempt and hatred they gave to him, when only days ago they would have defended him as one of their own, Verity, not the Ethian scum that plagued their lands. Some even spat on his pyre, cursing him out, telling him there was no place for devils like him in this world.
He could stand to hear them deny his humanity, if he told them tell them to fuck off it would prove them right even more. He stood and took in all their ridicule, holding himself out for the one notion that had carried him through the entire evening. Seeing Jane one last time.
Once Queen Mary had sat down she called to the crowd, “What a joyous occasion. Who’s ready to party? I am!” This awarded her an erupting applause from the crowd before she commanded her guards to bring Jane out.
~~~~~
Jane in all of this had remained calm, at least on the surface. She didn’t bother to fight the guards as they bound her wrists or as they led her down the dark alley where they awaited Mary’s order to escort her out. Through all of it she did her best to hold back tears as she entered the courtyard. Jeers and insults were shouted at her, but their words made no impact on her for she was far too entrenched in her thoughts to even register their taunts.
Upon seeing Jane, Guildford called out her name, hoping she’ll hear him amongst the crowd to no effect. Lost in her own thoughts she can’t comprehend his voice amongst the rowdy crowd.
Swiftly she comes to walk along the seating deck where Mary and her entourage resided. Bess gazes upon her with reddened eyes, looking every bit as defeated as Jane. Her baby sister Margaret stares down at her with every ounce of sorrow her little body was capable of showing, attempting to be strong in the eyes of Mary. Poor girl. She didn’t deserve to see her sister die at such a young age. Mary was nothing more than proud of herself as she saw Jane walk pitifully to her death, her grin stretching from ear to ear. And her mother, for the first time since her father had died, was unable to coax an expression that was registrable to Jane.
The only thing that seemed to ground her in the moment was rubbing her hands together to keep away the chill, if there was any, not that Jane could feel one.
Katherine was nowhere to be found. But perhaps, Jane thought to herself, it was better this way. Katherine was too sweet and innocent to have to see her older sister get slaughtered in front of her.
With her silent farewells to her family aside she lifted her skirts and ascended the executioner's platform, gaining full view of the crowd. Two maids remove her cloak as she stares into the sea of endless faces, when suddenly she catches sight of the one face she’d been longing to find, that being her husband Guildford. The scare she received at the hands of Mary via the decapitated horse head days prior and the mortification her husband had been murdered before she could get the chance to say goodbye came to the forefront of her thoughts. But was quickly quelled with the assurance that he was here, albeit in these twisted circumstances.
There was nothing left the lovers could do but hold each other gazes, praying that any glimpse would channel all the unspoken words the two never got to say to each other.
This was it. Having gone through every trick of her metaphorical arsenal in the last 72 hours for the slim chance she might find a way to escape this fate, she was left with the force of realization that this was the end. After all she and Guildford went through, from the early days of their marriage, the search for an Ethian cure, to their squabbles and stolen moments under the moonlight, there was only one thought that came to her mind while she waited mutely for the executioner to ask for his grievances.
She loved him, there was no hesitation about it. From the moment their eyes locked in the tavern, her heart had called to him before she knew his name. When he was but a dark haired stranger who’s middling recitation of Latin had her entranced from the first word. Even in the moments she told herself she couldn’t stand the man, little by little she was overcome by his devotion and growing affection for her. He fought for her, rescued her even though it meant certain death. When he looked into her eyes she saw herself as his equal. They were more than husband and wife, they were partners, two beings that when apart were only half as powerful as the flames that burned when stoked together.
This ‘madness’ as she called it once, had ingrained itself into the deep crevices of her soul and bled through their heart. Guildford, her honest, unpredictable husband, who made her see stars she didn’t know lurked behind her eyes when they made love, who reveled in her skin like a man desperate for water. In her most vulnerable moments he never sought to undermine her trust and she did the same. When he revealed his regrets she told him he didn’t have to be tied down by his past. It was the acceptance of each other’s flaws. To have their ugly truths bared open and not have the other back away in detest but to touch and treat them with the utmost care you can give was what made their love pure and deep.
In another version of her life she would’ve been content ruminating in the countryside with her books, acting as an apothecary to the people in her community. Reflecting on this life she realized how lonely she’d be. Waking up alone to one else sleeping in her bed, no one to read her thoughts when she didn’t utter a single word. This antiquated idea she abided by for so long that in order to be fulfilled in life she had to accomplish everything on her own would never compare to the effervescent reality she’d spent with Guildford.
One thing was for certain, she doesn’t regret meeting Guildford, only that she never got the chance to tell him that what she feels most definitely for him, is love. And that love might just give her the strength to die.
“Do you forgive me m’lady.” Asks the executioner.
“Fuck no.” With those final words a strip of cloth is placed over her eyes.
~~~~~
Guildford does his best to hold back tears as he sees Jane attempt to find the executioner’s block on her own. His heart is in his throat, the pain of the rope digs into his wrists as he leans forward to catch a better glimpse of her. Here he was attached to a fucking post with no means of breaking free, not even able to change into his Ethian form and his wife was left helpless to an unforgiving audience like wolves to a lamb.
The fabric, though inhibiting her vision, is thin enough she’s able to see her way to the block. The coolness of the stone doing nothing to stop her shallow breath as her hands latch onto its sides.
His Jane, his stubborn, intelligent, wife. Words were not enough to describe exactly how much she had come to mean to him in their short time together. If he met the man prior to knowing Jane he would feel sorry for his former self. Like he had said to Jane at the ball, she was the one who pulled him from his despair and gave him a reason to have hope. Before Jane his world was black and white, horse by day, human by night, but then along she came and brought the color he was so deprived of.
It was her touch, her kisses, the hours they spent together in each other’s arms, the ability she had to reduce him to nothing under her skin drove him to do reckless things. The poets spoke of love that made you act senselessly, made you do irrational things. Their love encompassed such with words no one would be able to find in a book. In the end he’d die as peacefully as he could with the knowledge he'd do it all again, ten times over, even if it led to the same outcome, for her and only her would he force himself to suffer through this mortal hell.
In one breath, everyone watches as the executioner picks up his ax, aligning the weapon in the middle of Jane’s neck. In the second, he swings it high, Margaret closing her eyes to block out the sight about to ensue. In the third, the might of his strength and sharpness of the blade cut cleanly through Jane’s neck, her head dropping neatly into the basket.
Guildford couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own blood curdling scream as Jane’s head was sliced off, her blood coating the platform in a deep shade of crimson in a matter of seconds. A pang tears through his heart unlike anything he’s felt before. As if a part of his soul was ripped out from inside of him and died right alongside Jane. Rage, distraught, none were enough to fully comprehend what he saw - his lover, his confidant, slain in front of him and he was powerless to stop it. When there was Jane there was air to breathe. Without her the air they once shared was extinguished and Guildford was left gasping for it. How could one live when the life their lover breathed was cut off right before their eyes?
What was even more heart wrenching was when Mary ordered for her head to be shown. The executioner picks up Jane’s head by the locks of her hair and removes the fabric over her eyes to the cheers of everyone around. Her eyes, once full of vivacity, were blank and emotionless, and her skin was drained of its color, almost pale like snow.
Mary’s laughter wrung like a bell, announcing Jane’s death like a celebration. That is until she casts her eyes upon Guildford.
“Light the Ethian on fire!”
The guards waste no time in lighting the pyre, the wood taking to the flames like a child hungry for food, coming to life to the joy of the crowd.
Guildford was too overcome in his grief at first to notice the flames beginning to nip at his feet, and then his trousers. It doesn’t take long for his cries to turn into screams of agony. The pain of losing Jane coupled with the hellfire he was enduring was insurmountable unlike anything he’d felt in his life. To Guildford, he was dying twice over, first his soul when he lost Jane, then his body when it was set to the flames.
Slowly he began to lose all sensation of touch, his cries eventually consumed by the sound of fire crackling till all he saw were the golden flames embracing him before his vision dissipated.
~~~~~
To some, they were watching an Ethian rightfully burn, raising their cups and toasting to the eradication of his kind. To others they were standing with bated breath, counting down the minutes when they could return to their estates and forget this nightmare ever commenced.
Suddenly from the sky a storm of feathers and talons rained down, pummeling the party into chaos. This stronghold of winged Ethians barreled down, desecrating all the folk who stood aside and permitted this evening to take place, a strike of vengeance they had been waiting to cast. The Ethians who had attended either took this as their chance to rise up or tucked their tails and scurried away should they end up being the losing side.
Though they fought valiantly and in their hard won success gouged the eyes of the mad queen, they were too late to save Jane Grey and Guildford Dudley from bleeding and burning to their deaths. By the time the battle was over Jane’s friend Susannah lay weeping over the body of her headless friend while several Ethians hurried to extinguish the pyre in order to retrieve Guildford’s shriveled corpse.