…..
Evening
Aidan just returns from an inspection with another king in a neighbouring kingdom. He enters the room, and not seeing Griselda there leaves for the stake ground, suspecting that she'll be there.
At the stake ground, long shadows are cast across the castle grounds by the moon, which is a pale sliver in the sky.
Griselda stands in the centre of the stake, as vengeance burns within her. The smell of burnt wood is thick in the air, as the executioner's words echo in her mind: "Two hundred and thirty-two." The number continually fueling her anger, a cold, hard fire in her chest.
Aidan's face, his lack of remorse, flashes behind her eyes. How could he? How could the man she loved stand by and allow such a monstrous act? The love she felt for him is now a twisted, wounded thing, a mockery of what it once was.
A rustling sound breaks her reverie. She turns back, her senses on high alert. It is Aidan, his face etched with concern.
