Because Of You. . .

FOUR

EALY.

‘What type of king do you want to be? Good or great?’

I’d been asked once by Father. The question was as simple as the choices, but at ten I’d been conflicted by the difference. Years later, and a few days to my impending coronation, I remained torn between the two ideal. Every king aspired to be great, but there was a profound nobility in good. The trials of the crown couldn’t allow such uncertainties though. The throne, in the glory of its opulence, was bristled with the cries of the people, and above, the crown was heavy with their towering expectations.

I couldn’t be less.

Father’s demeanor made sense, a little. The cold, formidable walls he’d put around himself. His cruelty that hadn’t been warranted. I hoped to be better than he was, transcend his legacy and bury his name in the forgotten troves of history. And if anyone ever spoke about him, it’ll be stories of his failures. Nothing new, just a familial obligation. He’d done it to his father too.

But even with the coronation date looming, the Queen regent was still clinging stubbornly to the reins of power. Her reasons more personal than political, none of which I cared about. It was only a matter of time before the court factions exploited her vulnerabilities, and challenged her authority or lack of. Otherwise I’d have to get involved.

Though I wasn’t sure if I should be gentle with her, she was my mother after all. I wasn’t born from her, but in the first four years of my life, she’d loved me like her own. The child she’d desired but couldn’t bear. The one she’d sworn to love with her entire being, until the heavens blessed her womb and she casted me aside. Calling me by the names she’d once prosecuted people for using against me. A bastard. An illegitimate.

She was still my mother, but I was my father’s son, I couldn’t be lenient.

“Your Highness,” A familiar voice called out. Wrong title address, wrong timing. There were certain established norms for approaching someone of my status, Zawadi knew that much, and I’d be justified to ignore her. But there was something in her voice, that sharp spite that had never been there, even when we saw the worst of each other.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I asked impatiently

“A man was stripped and thrashed seconds ago by your orders. What could’ve possibly warranted such an inhumane repercussion?” She yelled, drawing attention to herself, completely uncharacteristic.

Zawadi was a poisonous rose, living on chaos and the misery of others. She hated everyone, and anyone who tried to get closer to her darkness got burnt by it. Yet here she stood advocating for a mere servant? I couldn’t say I was intrigued. It was probably another self serving trick, and a waste of my time.

“It’s the law, I thought you’re at least vast on the subject,” That was how she got out of every trouble she caused unscathed, quoting a loophole in a law with a smirk. There was nothing as appalling as evil without a cause.

“What law could be this cruel?” She choked out. The emotions playing on her face were all foreign, something that I’d never seen in all our years of acquaintance. Except for the last time we spoke. . . Why was I even haunted by that night? Nothing special happened.

“The laws that have stood since the days of my ancestors. Next time you have a question, Zawadi, consult the legal books rather than wasting my time,” I tried brushing past her, but she held onto my arm. Another faux pas.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the king? What’s a f*****g law to you?” Gasps rang through our immediate surrounding, the onlookers that had blurred into nothingness. Another faux pas. But I wasn’t new to her antics. She always threw tantrums to get my attention, and sometimes it made me wonder if she had been neglected growing up. If her scars matched mine.

I’d intended on ignoring her, leaving her to wallow in her self pity and failed attempts, but then I spotted the last person who should’ve witnessed this circus. The Queen regent, wearing a sly smile curved on her lips, a clear tell of the scheming thoughts swirling through her mind, obviously calculating how to use this as ammunition to keep her title. And that was the thing about being in power, you had to be wary of the people closest to you. They might drag you into a greater depths of hell.

“Atlas, could you remind my betrothed of the conditions set forth before her return to Narva?”

“Are you even listening? Someone almost lost their life,” She looked bewildered enough, I almost believed her.

“She shouldn’t disturb the peace of palace, or be a hundred feet away from her quarters – None of which the Royal Highness has adhered to, Your Majesty,” Atlas relayed obediently.

“Inform my sister that her rules have been defied,” I said icily, before walking away from the mess. Striding through the halls of a place that had never been a home, brushing past faces that weren’t as familiar as they should. Maybe it was that prickly fact that I hadn’t grown up here like the rest of my siblings. The Queen regent had me exiled into the military, her first decree as regent. And it had been terrible.

Anyway nothing here belonged to me, except for that crown hanging prettily in the throne room. My essence.

I was born to be king, that was what I’d been told all my life. And I couldn’t let anyone stain that, not even the air that I breathe or Zawadi. The reason I even bothered to honour the promise made by our fathers was the political vantage of the union. This wasn’t a love story about to unfold, but a classical tale of power. As the heir to the throne of Sudgal, she brought something to my table. A thriving kingdom, and an indispensable economic support.

But the moment she ceased to be of value, I wouldn’t hesitate to tether the ties between us or replace her. Laws of politics were as fair.