fakes in shining armor // k.s.

chapter one

The Kingdom of Nayilam was under siege by its own citizens.

Tens of thousands of people flooded the streets, carrying torches and pitchforks and any other object they could use as a weapon. Pools of crimson blood flowed through the cracks of the ground, all from the late protests who had been killed from the violent riot before. Wailing echoed throughout the streets, and swears and promises of vengeance.

"Kill the monarchy!" they all screamed, waving their artillery around.

Two men suddenly appeared in front of the screaming citizens, on the boards. They donned beige bags as masks and wore all black. They were carrying a big, brown sack.

"Behold, your princess!"

They unveiled a girl, the whites of her brown eyes red, and the skin around it purple. She had cuts and bruises all over her tanned face. The pink silk nightgown she was wearing was torn and reduced to rags. Her signature long, black hair was an unruly mess, and she was shaking, whimpering, and crying, trying to untangle herself from the ropes that bound her. Her most distinct feature, however, was her pair of sparkly, rainbow-colored wings. One was bent and the other was torn slightly. It pained her.

The crowd booed and hissed at the princess. More tears streamed down her face. The crowd chanted, "Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!"

The two masked men took her by the shoulders.

"Let me go! Let me go!" she started to yell, trying to fly away, but the weights on her ankles were holding her down. They ignored her, and kept taking her to a wooden contraption, with a metal blade, triggered by a rope. On the other side was a young man, smiling menacingly as she was led to her doom.

They bent her over, her neck fitting in the circular slot of the device. The metal blade shone brightly against the flames of the Nayilamian castle. One of the men held a rope, the only thing separating the princess from the knife.

The young man went over to her, took her by the chin, and brought her face close to him. He had the brightest, bluest eyes the princess had ever seen. "You have a chance to get yourself out of this, he growled to her. "Say you'll rule by my side and I won't kill you."

The princess could have said yes. She could have said yes and lived. She could have said yes and ruled her kingdom with an iron fist. She could have said yes and turned everything around, including her loyal subjects' perspectives on her.

But instead, she said no. She said no to living in fear, wondering what her betrothed would do to her. She said no to ruling in tyranny. She said no to tormenting her kingdom for the rest of her life.

He knocked her chin into the splintery wood as he pushed her away. "Suit yourself," he said, standing back. He nodded to the man, who released the rope, and the blade dropped right onto the princess's bare neck.

And that's how the Princess of Nayilam lost her head.

***

Her Royal Highness Faye Blair Amor of Nayilam shot up in her bed. Cold sweat dripped down from her head to her mattress, with a scream caught in her throat. She had gone for what seemed like years without any vivid dreams, especially nightmares like this one.

She fell back in bed and tried to forget about it and fall asleep. However, every time she closed her eyes, the sound of her subjects screaming her name out of anger and spite instead of adoration and idolatry kept echoing and echoing and echoing, but not loudly enough that she couldn't hear her bedroom open.

Oh God, she thought, they're coming for me.

"Your Highness..."

They're going to kill me. Wait! They can't kill me if I'm already dead.