• The dark-haired, angelic girl smiled gently. She looked down at all the little birds in glee, or not so much glee as a sweet harmony with all of nature.
    "Hi, little birdy," she whispered softly.
    The little bird chirped, looking about interestedly.
    The girl laughed, a sweet soft laugh.
    Then she grabbed the bird in one hand and snapped the fragile neck with the other. The next chirp became a choked gasp and the heart stopped beating instantly.
    "Stupid little birdy won't be so stupid next time, now will it?" she breathed.
    A woman's footsteps sounded outside the closed veranda and the spoiled girl of sixteen looked up rapidly, released the bird in her hand, and began to cry.
    "Mooooommyyyyyyy," she wailed, "the birdy!"
    A richly dressed woman strolled into the veranda, and looked down at the child. "Oh, dearie! Did you squeeze too hard on the pet bird?"
    The girl nodded, tears streaming out of her big green eyes.
    The woman's motherly look changed suddenly, and she straightened. She rang a bell and maids appeared, smiling forcefully and clearing out the mess and the slight blood that had stained the carpet. A nurse entered through another door and retrieved the girl to clean her up as well.
    "Next time," the woman said, almost sternly, with barely a trace of sympathy or kindness in her voice, "you'll learn not to break your toys."
    After the bath, the girl was sent to the whipping post for her punishment. Her mother stood by supervising. The girl, Toyra, looked at the long, metal-tipped whip with alarm and terror. The mother smiled darkly.
    "This is the fifteenth bird you've killed. Each one cost two hundred gold mirus." The mother's eyes became slits, angry and menacing. "I don't know if you're just stupid enough not to understand me, or you're doing it on purpose. Either way, a good whipping will knock some sensibility into you."
    Toyra's eyes grew wide as the man, coarse-shaven and dirty, approached with the long, evil whip in hand. She screamed and backed away, but swiftly he approached and caught her in one hand. Eyes glowed with lust as he looked up at the mother.
    "Can I 'ave her for a bit after, ma'am?"
    "Why not," the mother said, waving a hand dismissively. "What good does her virginity do her anyway? Better she learn now than become a slut later."
    The girl, perceiving what the exchange meant, shrieked louder, a heart-breaking cry except to those present. She struggled to free herself from the man's iron grip but he only held on tighter and smiled a gruesome grin, revealing a set of teeth liberally decorated with colors and stinking gunk everywhere.
    "Now, don' be strugglin' so much, young'un," he whispered, pressing a loathsome kiss on her cheek. "It'll hurtcha more that way."
    Dropping her, he pressed her down to the smelly, cold ground and pinned her down with one heavy foot. With his free hand, he leaned down and drew the back of her dress up to display first her legs, her underclothes, and then her back, smooth and white, rarely if ever touched by the sun or anything else.
    She twitched violently, feeling the draft of air move across her back and chilling her. She shivered, real tears coursing violently down her cheeks. The man raised his whip ceremoniously...

    "Hold." The man's hand was grabbed by another and forced back down. The man, Weslay, started in surprise and turned to give a scathing look at whoever was preventing him from carrying out his official orders. His scathing look instantly became sorry as his eyes lighted on the preventer.
    "M-mah prince," he stuttered. "What's ye doin' here? And why..."
    He turned about fully, taking his leg off of Toyra's back, and realized his mistress was missing. The Prince glowered at him, hostility and unfriendliness nearly radiating off of him. Weslay stepped away in fear, backing away from the Prince and Toyra.
    "This girl, Toyra?" he said, looking down at the girl prostrate and trembling. "She is now my fiancee. Her father and mine arranged it yesterday. I came today to retrieve my fiancee, and..." He trailed off, a threat eminent in the unspoken words.
    Weslay gulped, trying to quell the terror rising in his throat. He'd nearly laid hands on the Prince's fiancee. "Ah-ah's apahlahgize most deep, sir, ah didna know tha' she's a...yours..."
    The Prince drew his sword and neatly knocked the man over with the flat of the blade. Weslay toppled over like a sack of potatoes.
    "In the future," the Prince hissed quietly, "if you so much as come near my bride, your head will find itself missing the rest of its body. Understand?"
    Weslay opted not to reply at this moment, but simply fainted clean away. The Prince sighed and knelt down, carefully tugging the dress back down to cover the terrified girl, who was trembling. She had heard the exchange and, though relieved that the abominable Weslay was forbidden from her presence, feared she had exchanged one rapist for another.
    The Prince, noting her fear, sheathed his sword and pulled her up gently, brushing the dirt lightly off her light silk dress. Her eyes followed an erratic path up the Prince's fine riding clothes, the slight build and strength contained in the muscles hidden by the sleeves. She glanced up at his face, and felt an ineffable sense of peace and safety flood her. His steel-gray eyes looked down at her green ones, and she relaxed ever so slightly as the Prince helped her get to her feet.
    She looked up again and caught sight of something she had not noticed before. She pointed, whispering. "Your hair..."
    He looked up, startled, then smiled wanly. "Oh, it's frightening, isn't it? No one really likes it." The Prince brushed back the silvery-gray hair and sighed. "I apologize."
    "No, no, it's just..." She smiled weakly. "I like it. It's unusual."
    His wan smile brightened into a real one. "Really? Thank you!"
    She simply stood there, smiling at him softly, utterly transformed from the evil, mischievous child who'd killed a bird that morning. They stared at each other for a long moment, totally unaware of the unconscious man at their feet.
    The Prince wanted to kiss her, but realizing the brutal rape and beating she'd just escaped, he refrained, thinking that she'd not appreciate it so well. What would it say about him if he saved her simply to take her himself?
    And besides, what would she think of me? Doubtless her compliment was only in happiness of being saved, surely she did not truly mean it. He sighed, absorbed in his self-depreciating thoughts. Honestly, who would like me? I may be a Prince, but that's the only redeeming quality I have. No girl would ever like my looks, I'm really pathetic and just--
    His thoughts were cut off as a pair of lips pressed firmly against his own. For a moment he stood numb with shock, and then his mind caught up to what was going on. His lips began to work, and he swept an arm around her, kissing her passionately back, even leaning her back a little in space.
    He waited for her to tear herself away, screaming.
    Instead, she pulled closer, weaving her arms about his neck and tugging him down.
    I'm so happy.
    As the couple wandered backwards, still in one another's arms, she tripped over the unconscious figure still laying motionless on the ground. Toyra landed painfully on the ground, and unfortunately enough, the Prince lost his balance as well, falling neatly on top of her.
    "Ow!" they intoned in a chorus, pained by the fall. Toyra looked over the Prince's shoulder and glared at the near-rapist/whipperthat had caused them to lose balance.
    "I'm sorry!" the Prince said, looking down at his fiancee. "I didn't--"
    "It's not your fault," she cut him off. "His."
    The Prince followed her glare and realized it. "Ah," he said, making a mental note to have the scoundrel soundly punished later.
    As if reading his mind, Toyra began to sit up. "Please stand up?"
    "Oh! Ah, yes, of course." The Prince got up hurriedly and helped her up as well, brushing them both off. She smiled diabolically, and one could see the evil glint of the girl from that morning who'd snapped the bird's neck.
    Stooping, she retrieved the whip from the ground, as the Prince looked on in amazement. "May I punish him?" she asked the Prince politely.
    "Why, y-yes..." He was doubting that she'd prove able to really hurt Weslay, and watched with not a bit of skepticism. She's too soft to actually hurt someone. Would've been fun to watch, though...
    He was proven entirely wrong as she raised the whip, and with a hiss it descended through the air to land painfully on Weslay's back.
    The loathsome man woke with a shriek, writhing in pain. Toyra smiled devilishly as she whipped him again, the metal-tipped leather digging into his flesh and leaving deep, bloody furrows carved into his back and the shoddy cloth that covered it.
    "You ruffian, you villain," she hissed, "did you dare believe you could lay a hand on me?" Another whip, another scream of pain. Blood flew through the air and spattered liberally on all those present. "Nysos will punish you! I am his instrument! You cannot ever touch me, do you hear me? EVER!"
    With the final exclamation, she drove the whip spiraling onto his throat, and the force of her swing wrapped it around his neck and severed the head from his body. It seemed to simply fall off as wet paper would fall apart. Limply, the head rolled a few inches, face caught in a soundless scream, and blood began flooding the area where his head had once occupied the neck.
    She looked up at the Prince, who was staring at her with a shocked look. Suddenly, self-consciously, Toyra realized exactly what she'd done -- killed a man in the presence of her Prince and fiancee.
    The blood had splattered against him too, and he looked ghastly, the wide eyes set in the horrified face. He resumed breathing, letting out a deep sigh.
    Oh, Nysos, what have I done? She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, trying to think of what to do. I just ruined our whole future!
    Suddenly he stepped up to her. Now his face was unreadable, like a closed book. She stared at him in wonder. Is he going to kill me?
    He took her by the shoulders and kissed her deeply, pulling her close -- almost painfully -- to him, nearly crushing her against his body. Toyra had no idea how to react.
    The Prince pulled away quickly, licking the blood that had spattered against his lips. "Feisty."
    "...what?" Her mind raced to catch up, and she processed what he said. Did he just call her feisty?
    "I love that in a girl," he whispered sensually, pulling her in for a kiss again.