Defeat

by gigaherz

The king sat on his throne one last time. He waited, defeated, wounded and exhausted, for the enemy to break down the doors and take what was left of his legacy. His guards lay sprawled at his feet, he gave them merciful deaths, unlike those the enemy would allow them.

His right hand was locked around the hilt of the dagger, still dripping his loyal men’s blood. His body wouldn’t let go, but he couldn’t bring himself to end his own life, no matter how much he dreaded the enemy’s plans for him.

Splinters flew toward him, as the door snapped open. He didn’t feel pain as a few of them stuck on his skin, his mind was focused on the doorway, and the soldiers marching into the room with weapons drawn. They surrounded him, and held the blades against him, while the rest formed a path and made way for the enemy leader, who walked proudly and smiled seeing him still alive.

The leader took of their helmet, revealing a woman’s features. “You bastard! You couldn’t do it, could you? I guess I should have expected. You were always a coward, so afraid of others you’d rather kill them than befriend them.”

She was a tall, strong woman, with harsh features and short black hair… and he knew her well. They had shared a bed a lifetime ago, when they were young, and life was easy. Before he was king. Before she supposedly died. “You? How? You were dead!”

“Was I?” she said, looking at the back of her hand against the bright light from the window. “I look alive enough. I don’t believe that ever changed.”

“I held your lifeless body! I carried you home and buried you! Everything I did afterward, was because of what they did to you!” the kind said, pointing at the enemy soldiers.

“Ah, but that was the point, wasn’t it? You refused to move. You refused to act, no matter how great the threat was. You needed a push, to start moving, and everyone else’s lives didn’t seem to be enough for you. So, of course, next one, had to be me. Or well, as close as me as we could find… which is why we had to hide the differences. Gruesome task. Poor girl. For what it’s worth, she was already dead when my men found her. Or close enough. Those raiders had not been kind to her.”

The king stared blankly at her words, shocked, incredulous.

“I do not regret what I had to do. But I do regret underestimating your hate, your rage. Or rather, I should say, your fear. Because that was it, right? You didn’t become a monster because of your love. You did it because you feared that you had lost the last thing you had, and you’d be alone.”

He felt his heart stumble at the truth of those words. A truth he had never admitted to himself. Rage, to fill in the weakness of fear. Hate, to channel the rage toward others, so that he would not burn himself. Even after a lifetime, he hadn’t really changed, and she still knew him better than himself.

She turned around, toward the soldiers. “Take him. If he resists, cut something. Start from the thing he has always loved more than anything else, in between his legs. If he doesn’t let go of the dagger, cut his hand off. If he drags his feet, cut his legs off. But don’t kill him, he doesn’t deserve to go that fast.”

The king, understanding the authority in her voice, knowing everything she said would be done, let them drag him without resisting, wondering if he should have attempted to fight with the hopes he’d bleed to death, but knowing he just wouldn’t have been able to do it.

Outside they put him in an iron cage, along with some high-class people, both royalty and merchants, in varying states of health. Unlike him, they were there as ransom, so they still had a chance. “Lucky bastards” he thought, knowing there was no one who’d give money to see him free, and a lot who would give money to see him die slowly.

“His reign is over!” she said, from the top of the stairs. “His legacy is dead!” she continued, looking at her men, and women, who were gathering to hear. “We will rebuild, on our terms, without the tyranny of his cowardly ways. But in order to rebuild, dead is not enough. He has to see everything destroyed. WE have to see everything destroyed! Burn it down! The keep, the walls, and everything in between. Make the timber turn to ash, and the stones melt. Then, and only then, we will be free.”

As she started walking down the stairs toward her horse, flaming arrows started flying toward the keep. Burning stones followed, launched by catapults. Even before she reached the bottom, the heat of the flames was starting to build up, and when they marched away, their pace was fast, and they didn’t look back.