Ashes of Revenge

The King left the throne room, leaving Fernando alone with Raven. He rubbed his eyes, wiping away the faint sting of tears in them.

Arthur didn’t know if he had stabbed Raven in a fit of rage or if she had impaled herself, but he had no idea why she would do such a thing. It also arose another question: why did Raven even pull her dagger in the first place if she wasn’t going to use it? Even after she was stabbed, the hand that clutched the knife was holding onto his arm. More so, he didn’t even know she was alive until now, but now that she was dead, he didn’t know how to feel about it.

On the one hand, he had sent her to her death years ago, but he hadn’t witnessed it. Sending Elizabeth and his old wife away had stayed with him, but he really only regretted sending his wife. He had convinced himself that Elizabeth's death was for the good of the Kingdom.

He had begged Eliza not to go with Elizabeth, even ordered her, but she was too strong-willed to listen to even the King. The last thing she was going to do was allow Elizabeth to go to the Farian Kingdom and talk politics by herself.

Arthur sighed heavily, wishing he had been more demanding with his wife and made her stay. But, he hadn’t, and now he had a new wife and kid who he loved.

The King knocked against Victor’s door, and he was met with silence. He opened the door slowly and walked into the room, his eyes landing on Victor.

Victor was sitting in his chair at the desk. His feet were on top of the wood, and his crown had been tossed beside them. In his hands was his father’s helmet.

When the King walked in, Victor didn’t look at him.

“Victor,” Arthur said in a soft voice.

“You killed my father,” Victor whimpered out.

“It was . . . he was . . . it was unintentional.”

“How the bloody hell do you unintentionally kill someone?”

Arthur tensed at Victor’s use of words and tone; he slightly sounded like Raven. “They weren’t supposed to be killed.” The King grabbed Victor’s crown.

He felt guilty for his Knights being killed; that’s why he had visited the families of the deceased. Thankfully, he had done so because he met Dara, married her, and saved his Kingdom from war once more.

Victor turned his head to look at the King. A particular anger shot into his red and puffy eyes that made it look like he could kill the King. Again, it reminded Arthur of Raven, the way that she had looked at him from the moment he entered the throne: pure hatred.

“I made an agreement with the Farian King that Elizabeth was the only one that would be killed.” His voice cracked.

Victor continued to glare at him, and the King looked back with tear-filled eyes. The Prince looked away, turning his attention to the floor.

“He didn’t abide by my wishes and killed everyone.”

“Then go to war,” Victor gritted out.

“If I went to war with the Farian Kingdom, then the Monstro and Shifter Kingdoms would have followed . . . and then the Telik. . . . There was nothing I could do.”

“Yes, there was!” Victor finally yelled as he stood up and faced the King, who didn’t even so much as flinch.

“Sit down and allow me to explain myself,” Arthur commanded in a low tone. “I will not allow you to villainize me.”

Victor remained for a few seconds before he complied with the King’s order and sat down again.

“I lost my wife that day.” Victor noticed the lack of Raven. “I wanted to attack the Kingdom, but an all-out war would begin. The Kingdoms have been on the brink of war for years now, and the only thing keeping them at peace are the compromises that each King makes. What happened to Raven kept us at peace for four years.”

Victor remained silent. If that was the case, then it wasn’t working. The Monstros consistently attacked the closest Mundus and Farian villages while the Shifter King allowed his people to take Mundus’, the lack of laws allowing them to do so.

The King placed the crown back on his desk, directly in Victor’s view. “Once you’re King, you’ll understand.” With that, he walked out and left Victor alone.

Victor felt as though his step-dad hadn’t answered or clarified his questions, reminding him of Raven. He hugged his father’s helmet against his chest and allowed more tears to roll down his face and splash onto the shiny metal. He was crying both in anger and sadness, and he didn’t know whether to hate or feel sorry for the King.

***

Arthur made his way up to the library, where he knew Dara would be. When he walked into the room, he saw her sitting in a chair, staring at the book that Raven had been reading in the throne room.

He remembered the book; it was Raven’s favorite when she was younger. His wife would read a chapter of it every night to her.

Dara looked at her husband. Like Victor, her eyes were red and puffy.

“You killed her,” Dara whispered.

He walked to her, reached down, and gently pulled the book out of her hands. The blood was now forever engraved in the cover.

“You’ve killed her twice.” The King placed the book down. “You’ve made that poor girl suffer.” Dara thought about all the burns and unsaid things she had probably experienced while being in enemy territory.

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“I don’t see how it couldn’t be your intention.”

“When she went to the Farian Kingdom, it was supposed to be quick, and no one else was supposed to get hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter what was supposed to happen. What happened happened, and there’s no changing that. I’ll believe you when you say that you believed you weren’t sending those men, my husband, to their deaths. But you knowingly sent your daughter to that fate, and I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.” Though her voice was quiet, it was cold, and the King didn’t like it.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m asking you to be my wife. My Queen.”

“I don’t know if I want to be those things anymore.” The lack of a pause struck Arthur's heart, and he nearly crumbled to his knees. He gently grabbed her hand, and she began to pull away. However, when she felt his fingers desperately tighten, she looked up at him and noticed a faint glint in his eyes. Her hand stopped resisting his, and he reached down, grabbing her other hand.

Dara slowly rose from her seat, and the King brought one of her hands to his lips. Then, he brought it to his chest and gave it a tender squeeze.

“What have you done?” He looked at her with cold eyes. Though he hadn’t said or done anything to warrant the question, Dara could tell something was wrong.

“Where is Eliz -” She stopped, remembering how Raven hated that name. “Raven. Where is Raven being buried?”

“The river,” he mumbled.

Dara looked at the her husband with tear-filled eyes and shook her head. “She needs a proper burial.”

“She’s not a part of the Royal family; she left this Kingdom years ago.”

“None of that matters.” Dara pulled both of her hands out of his grasp.

“So you’re telling me that if Victor were to disgrace your name and then abandon you, you would treat him as you treat him now?”

“Yes, Arthur, I would.” Dara was almost in disbelief. “He’s my son, and there is nothing on this earth that he could say or do to make me not love him.”

The King remained almost lifeless as he stared at her beautiful face.

Dara reached up and unclipped the heavy, blood-stained mantle, causing it to crumble to the ground. Immediately, he felt as though a massive burden had been ripped off his shoulders.

“Please, give Raven a proper burial. She’s suffered enough in life. She doesn’t need to do so in death too.”

A tense silence filled the room, and his hand found hers again.

“Ok,” he finally said in a whisper. His hand was now shaking, and Dara didn’t know if it was in anger or sadness. “Ok,” he said again.

He slowly leaned down to her lips, asking permission to kiss her. When she didn’t move away, he softly kissed her as if she were made out of cracked glass. His hand let go of her, and he walked away, leaving the blood-stained book and clothing on the ground.

The King’s hand landed on the heavy door and slowly pushed it open. His eyes immediately fell on his blood-stained throne, which was now more of an ugly dark brown color. But that was all he saw - Raven was gone.

He was too late.

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