Saving Aeron

Brigh kept her eyes fixed on the buzzing fly across the room as the purr of the electric razor circled her head and the long pink locks tumbled down her shoulders and to the floor. The murmurs and whisper of the audience grew louder with drop. Behind the dull din of the crowd, the nasal cackle of her best friend threatened to break her concentration but as the full bodied amusement that met the joy joined the cacophony of noises, she resolved herself to represent her pack with pride and dignity even as her Alpha, her husband, tried to strip her of her beauty. He already broken her heart and taken her life. In the six months since she had been sentenced, she had only been paraded about three times. The first time, a week after she had been brutally yanked from her bed and tossed into a damp and moldy cell, she hadn’t been allowed to shower or changed her clothes. She walked through the camp, a smile on her lips and her hair braided and wrapped around her head like a crown, in her wet and stained nightgown meant only for the bedroom. Signs of support lined her path from the prison to the courtyard stage where her husband, her sister, and her gamma sat. Her gamma, gaunt and eyes sunken, kept his head down and his hands hidden under his coat but slight movement tattled and the sun sparked off the silver handcuffs that kept him quiet. Gwyn kept his head bowed but raised his eyes to meet hers, when her sister noticed, Neasa jerked a small chain and Gwyn fell from the chair to his knees next to her. This had been her sentencing where she had been tried and convicted of Neasa’s husband, Balor’s murder. A stone coated in arsenic had been shot through his eye. In defiance, Brigh brought her eyes to meet Fergus’ eyes. Her husband looked to the crowd rather than at her as he read his verdict. Even as she heard the death sentence pronounced, she did not flinch. Now, though, she’d have better accommodations. Death meant moving from the general prison to the monastery where the unmated would tend to her soul until the hour of her passing. The second time, she wore a long black smock that dragged against the mud but she had been cleaned. Her pack had demanded a retrial. This time, Gwyn was absent and she met him later in the cell next to hers. She walked through the streets of camp, her people reaching out to touch her, weeping as if their own mother was being brought to the courtyard. The protests where louder but the Alpha remained in control and again, he sentenced her to death for Balor’s murder. The third time, her people hung from the balconies and out of windows as Fergus had forbidden anyone from attending. Each yell of protest during the trial elicited a lash of the salt coated whip and its nine knotted cords. This final trial did not end quickly and her black smock tore open as her blood splattered at the feet of the Alpha and her sister. Objections and protests did not stop. Whispers of revolution made it to the monastery and the unmated relayed all of the new information to her. Fifteen pack members had been murdered for speaking up for her. Four from the council had been declared rogue and Fergus disbanded the council. Everyone except for Neasa had been kicked out of the pack house. Food had been restricted and rationed, causing some to reach out to the common world for resources. Those who crossed the Alpha or Neasa had been sentenced to a year in prison and their families were imprisoned with them. Sometimes that meant three generations in a 9 by 6 cell. When Gwyn had been sentenced, Neasa had his tongue cut out and the trauma of his experience kept curled into a ball of fear for the first month but as the unmated cared for and tended his wounds, he began to regain a bit of life. He slept on the cot with his back against the bars to her cell, trapped but ready to be her protector. When he regained the use of his hands, he began writing. That’s how she found out that Neasa had killed her own husband and was pregnant with Fergus’ welp. They had been plotting and carrying on for a year and Fergus had been using spermicide when he and Brigh had made love preventing her from producing an heir. The vibration of the electric razor stopped and the chain that connected her wrist and ankle shackles pulled her forward, dumping her out of the chair to the amusement of her husband and sister. Puling the leash, her sister dragged her off the platform and across the yard to her final platform. They allowed her little dignity, pulling her feet from under her as the pack watched from windows and doorways, balconies and rooves, unable to be close to their Luna. Echoes of broken hearted howls bounced of the buildings. The executioner sobbed as he rubbed the mud off her feet and removed the shackles. “Our Luna,” He began. Fergus interrupted. “The prisoner. The convicted murderer.” He nodded. “Is allowed final words.” “Do make it fast.” Neasa muttered, already bored at the spectacle. Brigh looked around. The courtyard was empty and very few would hear her actual words but they would be recorded. She had one last chance to lead her pack. “May the Moon Goddess bless you and keep you. May Her infinite mercy and judgement deliver the Aeron Pack to its destiny. May all deeds see Her light.” She turned to her executioner. “May Her love comfort your heart and see your worth.” She knelt down, placed her bald head on the block, and closed her eyes. A collective, broken groan of the pack guided the axe for one clean blow.