Jeanne d’Arc

I approach the pyre with the understanding that this is the will of The Lord. I know that Giles is watching and it breaks my heart that such a good man should be **** to see the spectacle of my ****, but he has been my brother in arms since the onset of this conflict and it is only fitting that he be here by my side at the end.

My trial was a mockery of justice; not only was the testimony against me fabricated and prevaricated, they took advantage of my lack of letters and used it against me. Even so in the end they had to alter records to justify the verdict against me, creating evidence from whole cloth to damn me to the stake. I struggle to keep a straight face at the irony, for, you see, I truly am guilty of the crimes they cite.

I wore the clothing of men, cut my hair short, and raised a sword. One cannot wear a helm with long hair. The sword I raised, I never swung, my banner was all the weapon I ever needed. As for the clothing of men, that was to keep my virtue intact. Of course I gave that willingly long ago on a cold night on the battlefield.

I never consorted with demons, but I did find proof of the divine, for I met with gods. The lady Aphrodite gave my banner to me, and with its power I lead my armies to victory. And by its power I shall rise once more like a phoenix from the ashes.

It is with a perverse joy that I feel the first tongue of flame on my body. The pain is exquisite, sensation like I have never felt before. My body shudders as the pain/pleasure leads inevitably to an orgasm that wracks through my body even as the inhalation of smoke overcomes my faculties. It is a wonder that the moisture from my cunt does not extinguish the flames.

In the end the smoke and flames claim first my consciousness, and then my life.

You wake in a cold sweat, feeling the flames that Jeanne felt, barely stifling a scream. Standing you walk to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Looking up into the mirror, you see Loki standing behind you.