Swordplay || MYG Fanfiction

𝟘𝟙

┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐

01

└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

❝ she wore a smile 

like a loaded gun ❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Execution Day. Hundreds gathered in the square, full to bursting purses hanging from their belts, hungry eyes focused on an innocent man, necklace of rope decorating his neck. One piece of jewellery I never hoped to wear.

Sticking to shadows and alleyways, I sneak through the crowds, remaining as inconspicuous as possible, making my way to the Emporer's square. I reach my hand into a skirt pocket, fingering the knife hidden away from sight, allowing the sharp blade to trace the pad of my finger. The small blade was just for cutting purses, sharp enough to slice through the threads, but I had used it once not for its intended purpose. Only once. Finally I reach the Emporer's square, stationing myself towards the back of the crowd, eyeing an escape exit. Easier to escape, less likely to get caught. Less likely to be the prisoner being led to the wooden stage, executioner guiding you like a mutt, to snivel and beg like a coward in front of the crowd.

Slinking through the crowd, I find a full purse. Keeping an eye out, I check to see if all attention is on the swinging broken body, cutting the string and slipping the purse into a pocket. The heavy weight of gold almost made me smile a little. One down, twenty more to go. It was only on my twentieth one that a cry went through the cry, causing ripples of panic.

"Where is my purse? Pick pocket! There's a thief!"

Shit. Trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, I stay put, as hurrying away would cause more suspicions. I mimic the actions of the crowd, patting my pockets in confusion and anger, but perhaps I patted too hard.

"What have you got in your pockets?" asked a man beside me, "Sounds like you've got the whole town's gold in there..."

His mouth dropped open as the realisation hit.

"Thief! Thief!" I shout, pointing randomly into the crowd.

People surge towards the unfortunate person in a mix of panic and confusion, allowing me to squeeze my way through, breaking into a jog as soon as I had hit the dusty street. I slow to a calm walk, sauntering over to a stall, and pretend to muse over the selection of spices. Before I could purchase a sack of powdered ginger, the dreaded sound of Guard boots thumping out behind me.

"The thief! There she is!"

So they had figured it out, unfortunately for me. Fuck. Powering through the bewildered people, I knock tables of merchandise aside, drawing cries from outraged merchants. Pushing past hordes of elderly woman, I get lost in the crowd, finding myself in the midst of a leering group of drunk men. The smell caused my nose to wrinkle, and the stale breaths made me feel lightheaded. At least they hid me from view.

"My, my, aren't you a pretty little thing. Why don't we-"

"Thief! Pick pocket!"

Turns out they didn't hide me well enough. Shoving them aside, I sprint through the marketplace, taking two rights and sliding into an alleyway. Holding my breath, I listen closely, not hearing the sound of clattering footsteps. I think I've lost them. Catching my breath for a second, I jump as a hand encloses my wrist, wrinkled and speckled with liver spots.