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Her nobility was the proof of her supremacy. Is it pride?
Her hands itched in desperation to hold onto strings long since cut. Is it greed?
Her gaze was predatory as it locked onto the young man. Is it wrath?
Her heels dug into cool stone, the lady behind the door felt verdant grass beneath her soles. Is it envy?
Her head spun, tangled threads untwining within her mind, as surely a crime in the face of love is no crime at all. Is it lust?
Her heart devoured her flickering indecision and locked it up, safe and sound. Is it gluttony?
Her decisions lead to the man’s confrontation with a divergent path, while she sat in comfort and faced only a flourishing field. Is it sloth?
The princess was, in fact, above all the people gathered to witness this barbaric trial. Even her father jumped to fulfill her every request. Maybe it was because of her superiority, then, that the young man would be condemned to this cruel and unusual fate, for what is royalty when mixed with the common blood? They must be made out of entirely different material. If she cut her palm, surely she would bleed not red, but gold.
Cheerful banter and rowdy laughter flitted around her like the softest of winds, but the swirling hurricane of unidentifiable emotions inside her most definitely did not feel like a caressing breeze. When she lifts her head, her gaze encompasses the elliptical arena. The twin doors were built into the amphitheater, underneath the tiers of seats made for spectators. The princess sat directly above the doors. She supposed this meant she had front-row seats, though the closer she was to the small speck that was the man, the more her stomach twisted like a dirty rug being rung out.
Desperation was clear in the young man’s eyes as he scanned the ring of people. The princess wondered if she would feel better if she sat on the other end of the coliseum, where the man would look impossibly small, where the man wouldn’t have that look in his eyes that reminded her, again and again, of where this broken love has taken them.
It was just unfortunate, wasn’t it? Barely a few months had passed, and the princess already condemned her hot-headedness. If only she hadn’t been so hasty to fall, head over heels, for a man far below her status, for a man she knew she must part ways with, sooner or later, she wouldn’t be faced with a decision clawing her insides into mush and soup. She knew, however, that she was in love. Was it too much to ask for, to be selfish for once? To put away her responsibilities and lean into arms, warm and welcoming?
Sacrifice for the people. She was a princess, and she will inherit the throne. Should her people starve in a harsh winter, she will give up the very marrow of her bones to feed her subjects. Was this not the same, then?
To bruise violet, shatter her pride.
To bleed yellow, shatter her greed.
To burn red, shatter her wrath.
To sicken green, shatter her envy.
To freeze blue, shatter her lust.
To flush orange, shatter her gluttony.
To pale light blue, shatter her sloth.
Cast aside her sins, make her decision not for herself, but for him. Make her decision in the name of love.
When their gazes lock, the princess has long since settled her choice. She held a scale, and it balanced in her hand.
The young man will live.
Her lover will live.
She loved as her heart ached.
// // //
He was a courtier to the princess. He was the lover of the princess.
If there is one thing he wished to know, it was why their love has come to this. Why, he wants to ask, was he facing life and death for being human? He was human, and humans fell in love. In his eyes, this should be no crime.
Crime was the head courtier. Corrupted by pride, he ordered his subordinates to menial tasks the young man would not even wish onto the lowest of servants.
Crime was the petty thieves. Corrupted by greed, they destroyed property to obtain even the smallest of fortunes, robbing already impoverished families of their last coins.
Crime was the unsuccessful mechant. Corrupted by envy, he spread the most foul of rumors to undermine the people unfortunate enough to call him a business partner.
Crime was the merciless soldier. Corrupted by wrath, he thinks no more than once before plunging his sword into the chests of friend and foe alike.
Crime was the cheating maidens. Corrupted by lust, they breached bonds as deep as marriage, seeking sensual pleasure in exchange for their very dignities.
Crime was the hungry chef. Corrupted by gluttony, he used his access to the kitchens in order to sneak plates and bowls stacked tall with delicacies not meant for him.
Crime was the pampered son. Corrupted by sloth, he lazed, unemployed, feeding off the fortune of his parents until all their valuables were pawned off to support his demands.
Crime was not him. He is not corrupted. Love is not a crime.
He lifts his eyes. He met the stare of the princess. She did not look troubled, her eyes peaceful as she gazed at him with all the grace and power fit for an heir. The door she pointed to was the one to the right.
The young man knew the princess too well. He wishes he didn’t, because knowing her too well means that he knew the right door contained the ravenous tiger, waiting to tear him into shreds the moment the door creaked open even a sliver. Knowing her too well means he knew the soft smile settling onto her beautiful face was only a siren’s lure, meant to hook him onto that addictive poison that bled through her very pores.
Eager to feed him to a hungry tiger. Was he another victim trapped in her web of lies? If she values not even his life, did she truly love him? Since she doesn’t love him, then he will simply choose the door with the lady.
The man allowed his lips to curl upwards as he returned the smile of the princess. He has made the right choice.
After all, there was not a chance the princess would spare his life.
Too prideful to admit that the lady behind the door was, in fact, gorgeous.
Too greedy to allow her lover to be pulled into another woman’s embrace.
Too wrathful to find a solution that did not end with his mauled corpse, staining grass into the color of rubies.
Too envious to see that she did not own the man, who should deserve his decision as much as any other.
Too lustful to admit to herself that her obsession is no more than just that, no more than a passing fad.
Too gluttonous to realize that as she scarfed down the meal that was his love, all he consumed was crumbs of a fake intimacy.
Too slothful to have listened to the man’s desperate warnings that their relationship was bound for failure.
The man opens the left door, and he sees his gaze reflected not in the eyes of a maiden, but in those of a tiger.
The man was wrong.
He is happy about his wrongness, he decided.
// // //
The princess was a sinner, but to shed one’s sins for undiluted devotion, was she so undeserving of praise?
The courtier was pure, but to lose oneself in the labyrinth of malignant passion, was he so undeserving of criticism?
A holy sinner and a tainted saint, were they really so different? They were human, and so, so imperfect.
Above all, they had loved, and maybe that love was enough.