I was captured as the leader of the revolution.

The war was already lost by the time they dragged me into the capital, chains biting into my wrists as the people I failed to save watched in silence. My execution was announced the same day—public, ceremonial, and meant to crush what little hope remained of the rebellion.

She was the one who ordered it.

The dictator who ruled the nation with an iron hand. The woman history would remember as a tyrant.

I expected cruelty. Hatred. Indifference.

What I didn’t expect was curiosity.

When she comes to interrogate me herself, we don’t speak of mercy or surrender. We argue—about freedom, order, sacrifice, and the price of peace. She believes fear is the only way to protect a country. I believe a nation built on fear deserves to fall.