Someone pressed something to his throat.

Rowan woke up, and rubbed his gritty eyes, which widened when he saw who held the knife to his neck.

“Seven?” he said.

Seven rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised you remember. At least that’s better than before.”

“Wait!” Rowan interrupted. “What is the meaning of this, _Seven?” - _spitting the last word out like a curse.

And it was.

Numbers as names were only given to those who were children of revolutionaries- members of the society stared down upon due to the disdain for change in the hierarchy. Seven just happened to be born right after the most recent uprising.

Seven scoffed.

“Every time I think that you can’t get dumber, you are proving me wrong. I’m here to kill you, of course. _But _I’ll give you my two cents about this place, so if you want to live a little longer, don’t shout for any guards. They’re probably dead anyway. I didn’t make sure.”

Seven smiled, her purple eyes flashing in the dim moonlight.

She continued. The glint in her eyes dulled, replaced by seriousity that flooded her amethyst irises. ”I absolutely hate you, and this ridiculous patriarchal clan.”

Rowan remembered why. It had started when he had teased Seven’s sister when they were both children, Seven had knocked him out with one punch, which had been the reason of Seven’s sentenced execution- a member of the lower class assaulting the higher class was strictly forbidden, and punishable by death, as Rowan was the the prince of the clan. On the day of the execution, both Seven and her sister, Eight, were missing, and left only one item in their apartment- a scrap of paper. Rowan could still see it- loopy handwriting that read:

“Rowan, one day, when you become clan leader, I’ll come and finish you. Sincerely, Seven.”

Searches had been conducted all over the city, but the twins were nowhere to be found.

“It is your kind that killed my parents in the revolution,” said Seven. “And now this place will burn. Now, you have precisely five seconds to say your last words.”

“You can’t possibly kill me! Guards!” Rowan shouted.

Seven rolled her eyes.

“Dude, that will look horrible on your gravest-“

Rowan’s son rushed in, holding a knife.

“Father!” he cried as he saw the figure standing over the king.”

“Oops, gave you nine seconds already.”

The prince watched helplessly as the king fell.

…

Seven paced the room, eyes fixed on a note that had been delivered at her doorstep, saying that the clan held Eight hstage and the only way to free her would be to turn herself in. Seven scoffed. How could her sister ever be so careless?

Days later, Seven strolled into the throne room, accompanied by thirteen guards standing on either side. The prince pressed a knife to her throat.

“I trust that you released Eight?”

“Yes.”

“I trust you,” she says as his knife points to her throat.

“You have five seconds to say your last words.” the prince said.

Seven started laughing.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, prince.”

Suddenly, Seven collapsed, bleeding from the throat. The prince stood over her with a look of malice until he, too collapsed to the floor, stirring the guards into a frenzy. Eight hopped in, and killed the guards.She stared at the dead prince’s face:

"No,” she said. “You gave her eight.”