He pleads softly against the skin of my cheek. The warm, whispered words are a lullaby. I listen to the haunting voice of my brother's killer and think of my family. Remember, honour is but a farce; a prettily painted mask to excuse murder. Honour is why I lie here, in a murderers embrace.
Fiction: Historical - Rated: T - English - Romance/Tragedy - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,782 - Reviews: 2 - Updated: 11-27-12 - Published: 11-13-12