MissionSparrow: Ever had that moment when you can crystal clear see a character’s death and how painful it is to the people around them, but you also have no idea who they are, where they live, or what the heck is going on? No? Um, let me give you a quick taste then.
“Maybe I won’t be—” The young man’s voice faltered and he gritted his teeth, forcing the pained words out, “—a burden, in another life?”
Her eyes widening, the queen stepped back, her sword slipping from her hands.
“Maybe next time …” he gave her a weak smile, “…I can be a flower. Flowers,” tears slipping down his face as he spoke, “Don’t burden anyone.”
Her sword clanged to the ground, and she dropped beside his body, “Wait, wait! You never were a burden, Isaac. Please! Don’t leave me, yet. I’m sorry, I never meant it. You aren’t a burden!” Sobbing, she pulled his head into her lap, running her fingers over his bruised face, brushing his sweaty bangs from his face. His breath was faint, his eyes glazed.
“Isaac,” She said, twisting his hair around her fingers, “Talk to me. If you don’t,” Her breath caught in her throat and she coughed, “If you don’t, I’ll pull your hair. I swear, I will! You hate that, don’t you? Don’t you?”
The queen’s hands shook, her face growing pale.
“I …Isaac?” She felt his wrist for a pulse. She felt his throat for a pulse. She hugged him, listening for his heart. “Please,” Her voice cracked when she spoke, “Don’t. Don’t leave me alone …alone to rule this kingdom.”
She lay there, amongst the fallen heroes of the day, hugging her king’s body to her bosom. Her worthless, burdensome king. The king she loved so much. The king she married.
And there, beside her husband’s body, she died. The woman who stood and walked away from the young king’s broken body was not the fierce, complaining wife of an incompetent king. She was someone new. Someone nations would fear. Someone who slaughters without regret.