The ropes constricted around my wrists. The hooded guard left the room after finishing tying me to the wall. Hours passed, by the time someone arrived the moon was already high in the twilight sky. My wrists were raw bleeding onto the visibly used rope that I hung by. My legs were free but even if someone was to come close I could offer no resistance. My legs were limp after standing for so long trying to relieve the pressure from the ropes. I could hear the unlocking of the gate and the piercing screech as it was opened. The signature red coat was dull in the darkness of the 'room'. Leather boots clapped against the cobbled floor, the same floor that rubbed at the soles of my feet leaving scarlet imprints n the cool stone. The glint in his emerald eyes was that of mischief and un-mercilessness. His arm rose with a blade in hand. The tip of the sword just pierced the skin on my exposed chest causing a thin trickle of blood to flow.It was cold and sharp as I felt the steel slide across. My breath hitched. Everything was silent neither one of us breaking the silence as Arthur traced the names across my chest. He stood back to admire his handy work, turning the blade in the moonlight. My voice was raw and painful as I screamed upon seeing the name until my vision went black. Every day without fail he came back to etch the name, tracing the lines from the day before. The sadistic man carved the memory into his head. It carried on for over a month until they decided I was a waste of space and beat me to death.

I woke up back in my room in the palace. I looked around disorientated and panicked. I was unaware if it was a dream or not, the pain seemed to real. I flung my self towards the full-length mirror and tore my shirt open. Her name was there. It was scarred over forever taking centuries before it began to fade.

It has been hundreds of years since then I have forgiven so much that he did to me but somethings never change. We have mutual feelings towards each other now but Arthur will never understand the hatred and fury I feel over this. He acts like it never happened. Maybe he truly forgot. I was surrounded by clutter and turned over chairs that were flipped in my drunken rage. Empty bottles scattered the floor as I sat in the middle of the kitchen floor sobbing wildly. My throat was sore and eyes puffy and red. I sat shirtless with both my hands covering the scar.

-*-*-*-

Hiya dudes and dudettes,

For those who didn't work it out, the woman he was talking about who's name was carved into him was...*drumroll*... Jeanne d'Arc! This means that Frenchie was captured during the hundred years war assumingly soon after Jeanne's execution.

Should I do a part 2? I have a few ideas for Iggy's Pov. Maybe he can find out about the scar ;)

Stay tuned. ^Author-Chan^