[ ] The Gemstone Princess, the one who set you up.
[ ] The Maid, your only friend.
The sky is clear as a sign of mockery to you by the heavens. You refuse to die a sinner. No guilt weighs down on your shoulders, no crime digs itself deep under your nails.
No regret reflects in your eyes as you stare at the crowd of nobles and commoners who came to witness the end of the witch Evangeline.
You walk towards the final stage with your own feet, the brutes that have been sent to gather you dare not touch your skin to force you upward in fear that whatever curses you are accused of would rub off on them.
He stands there, of course. Aldrin is dressed for the occasion, in the full regalia that revealed the future sun of the empire. His bedridden father, gods bless his soul, left him as regent for those precious few weeks before his wedding and his true ascension.
What a bunch of clowns. You scowl, and the crowd that gathers to witness such a gruesome event flinches back like cowards.
Not clowns, you shake your head. An entire circus, that is all this empire is.
"Have you nothing to say in your defence, witch?" Aldrin asks. You consider. Your mouth becomes a thin line. The mop of hair they had cut is still long enough to sway in front of your eyes. The purple bleeds into the blue of the sky.
You refuse to kneel. The gentleman with the tipless butcher's blade towers over you, there is no need to debase yourself to give him an easier access to your neck. He prepares, not bothering to force you down.
Your eyes meet the prince's.
You mouth a word. Malediction made manifest. The prince hesitates for just a moment, enough time for you to smile at his reaction.
[the end of a witch]
The blade cuts swiftly.
[THE END]
…
Dear Diary---
Today is my 16th birthday. My father will announce something big. I worry for him.
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(Thanks to @Gazetteer for looking over this before I posted)