You Don't Want the Crown

The Story of Lonan - 6

I wake to the baying of the dogs, and the clanging of alarm bells. I'm up and strapping on my sword before I can even think, and bolting down the hall. When an alarm is sounded we all go to our positions. Naturally my position, and my other father's, is to secure the royal family. Starting with the King.
I don't know how fast my feet carry me there. They've never run an alarm without practice and this is not practice. I don't dare think something's truly wrong.
I burst into my father's room. I've never been in here. My other father is directly behind me.
And we are in time to see three masked figures over my father's bed. . They're cutting the throats of the dogs as they try to bite them.
My sword and dagger are in my hands and I'm on one noiselessly, slitting the throat before he can react. Another throws a knife at my head but I dodge. We dispatch them both and fall to the the bed where the carcasses of the dogs lay.
He's dying but not dead, blood bubbling from his chest.
And the words that will echo in my mind forever:
"No. No—don't you leave me—don't you dare leave me," my other father chokes, dragging him up, trying to press his hands to his wounds. In an instant, bathed in blood as I am, I realize we're not going to save him. He has stab wounds to the heart and neck, all over his chest.
"No fucking—no," my other father breaths as he too realizes we are too late, "Go to the others now," his voice is raw with grief but he stands.
I force myself to move. I need to check everyone else now; it's what he'd tell me to do damn it. Others are swarming us now, and we bolt for the next few rooms.
I go to the Queen mother, he goes to the Queen and prince.
I'm not a moment too late. There's a dark figure over her bed, a hand on her mouth and knife poised over her chest. I throw my own dagger and it buries itself in the offending arm, then I leap, we struggle, on top of her, on the bed, for a moment before I get the blade free and slit his throat, bathing all of us in blood.
"The King is dead I'm taking you to the tower," I say, dragging her up by an arm, she's not hurt I don't think.
"What?" She asks, her voice trembling.
"Come, Your Majesty," I say, tugging her out of the bed, "We are not safe here."
I think I realize the same time she does we've never spoken to each other. And I just told her her son, my father, is dead.
I drag her down the hall to the secured passage. A series of rooms that are known only to us, built into the walls for the nobles to hide. I open it, clear it, and push her in before returning to the main hall.
I get there just in time to catch the queen who is bolting into Cuan's room.
She cries out as though thinking I'm an attacker then she realizes what I saw first.
There's a body lying on the little bed. But that is not our Cuan.
"Elisedd," she breaths.
"Stop," I growl, leaving her at the door. I have maybe moments to ensure this works. I slams the door shut and cross to the body on the bed. I lift it, to reveal this is not our boy. It's a page boy, I know him his name was Alfie I taught him to ride yesterday. And now he's dead, slain in the place of Cuan. Why? Not now. This is about to save Cuan's life.
Ita slams into the room to glare at me.
I make eye contact with the queen, praying she understands what needs to be done. There are assassins here. Someone hired them. They need to think the King and crown prince are dead. Someone just gave us a corpse meaning our Cuan is safe. So long as he's thought dead.
"The prince is dead!!" I shout, before plunging my knife into this poor sweet boy's face. Tears slide down mine as I rip his face open. Then I clean my knife and sheath it, saying a quick prayer for the boy's soul and thanking him for saving my brother's life.
I shout into the hall, "THE PRINCE IS DEAD! I'M TAKING THE QUEEN TO THE TOWER—,"
"Where is my husband—," the queen is trembling.
"Dead, stabbed through the heart," my other father grabs her arm and I take Ita as we tow them down the hall. We're both dripping in blood.
"No—no Cuan—," she whispers.
"Is alive, assassins oft spare children to raise as their own so he lives," I hiss into her ear, it is the quickest I can seek to explain it.
"He's right," my other father mutters, "Let the word spread the boy is dead. Someone ordered this and his life is cheap."
"Where is he?" She asks, trembling, "Let me see Conri—,"
"I'm keeping you safe," I say, still bending to whisper to her, "And I will bring your son home to you, I promise."
"Pray he lives through this night," my other father says, grimly.
"I will bring him home," I say, my voice trembling, as I open the passage and we enter. All members of the royal family are accounted for we guard them till the all clear.
"What is going on?" The queen mother cries, seeing our bloody forms, "Where is my son I—,"
"Your Majesty the King is dead, slain by assassins, we killed them, but we did not save him," my other father must deliver the news again, I can see his hands shaking.
"They're calling that the prince is dead I heard them—," she says.
"He's not dead," I say, softly.
"We don't know that," the queen says, she's not breathing well.
"Assassins and druids alike will take strong children to raise as their own, he's young he's useful to them. The other boy probably was sounding the alarm, so they figured they'd spare the prince, which means he's alive and safe considering someone wants him dead," my other father explains, taking a breath.
"I'll find him, I swear to you, I'll bring him home," I say, to her. She breaks down sobbing then and just takes my arm, tugging me to her. I let her hold me, her soft face in my bloody night shirt. I am dripping in blood. I feel the queen mother's eyes on me as though wondering why I'd get any affection from anyone.
"You're not hurt, Lonan?" Ita asks me.
"I'll keep," I'm cut but not bad. I got cut a few times in the scuffle, but nothing serious.
"Thank you," the queen says, quietly, releasing me but touching my arm again. I look away. I failed. My father is dead. If my steps had been that much quicker would he still live?
"One night," my other father is leaned against the wall. I know what he means. The one odd night he wasn't there. He was often enough. Did they know the King was alone and unguarded? Could they have guessed that? Or was it a terrible coincidence. We both know that he'd still be alive if he'd been there.
I shake my head, for the first time tears falling freely down my face. I failed them both. Cuan is gone. I must go bring him home. And my father dead. Dead. If I'd run faster, woken an instant sooner, bid my other father to go to him anyway? He'd be alive. What if I'd just kept him up, talked to him more, suggested we go for a walk? I was going to tell him about the last joust we'd have been up all night he'd be alive. And I didn't even hug him before he went and I'll never hug him again, not now, they'll never let me near his corpse not for what good that would do, but this is all the mourning I'll have.
I'm just standing there sobbing and somewhere in it my other father comes and puts his hands on my shoulders, tugging me to him tightly and pressing his forehead against mine. He's wiry and tough as a racing dog, and he never hugs me like this it's my father the King that hugs us both. But he grabs me now and clings to me, the last bit of family and we are all we have left of him.
The others must see our exchange as we both weep openly for this man we loved but were not allowed to. Quiet here in the dark and I care little for their judgement.
"I'm so fucking glad he gave me you," he whispers, his face pressed against mine, "I can't lose him, but I can't lose you too."
"I'm here," I say, hugging him back, just gripping one another like we'll lose one another if we let go. Perhaps we will.
"Lonan,you're bleeding!" Ita says.
"Stupid shit," said with love, my other father sees the blood actively dripping down my arm and seals his hand around it.
"Where would they take him? Who would do this?" The queen sobs, she's in mourning as well obviously. I don't know what they were all thinking of the exchange they just saw, but they say nothing.
"Someone who wanted the crown," Ita says, softly.
"You'll fucking keep? Fucking asshole," my other father says, studying the gash in my arm, he continues muttering past tears something to the effect of, "Of course His Royal Perfectly Fine fucking Highness bullshit fucking kid is fucking perfectly fine with a fucking vein split open."
"We've got, maybe ten minutes before they get us out of here and it was someone in these castle walls," Ita says, taking a breath.
"She's right, who stands to benefit? Fergus, he was third in line now the crown is his with the King and my son gone," the queen says.
"Yeah, dude who gets the crown is going to be prime suspect," my other father grunts, he's taken off my shirt to wrap up my arm. I love how we're talking like we talk to each other all while the queen mother is staring at me like I'm exotic species. It's honestly my job to kill assassins. I realize I killed a man while laying on top of her but it wouldn't have been so awkward if she'd met me before so that's on her.
"Pretty much, considering he directly benefits ergo—we have to assume he did it those were hired killers, how many were in each room?" Ita asks.
"Three with the King, the prince they'd already left but they left the corpse," I say, "So a couple at least."
"There was only one attacking me," the queen mother says.
"And only one attacking the Queen," Ita says.
"Ergo you two weren't the targets, you were flavor to make it look like a full on attack by the druids—,"
"It's not we have spies among the druids," the queen says.
"Who rang the alarm?" The queen mother asks.
We all look at her.
"Who rang the alarm?" She looks between us, "You two were the first here."
"It woke me," I say, quietly, because she did kind of address me.
"It woke me too—so someone knew they got in, I mean we'll find out who when we get the all clear, in theory," my other father says.
"We do have maybe ten minutes, all right what do we need to do here to get Cuan back?" The queen asks, "What's going to happen—,"
"Fergus crowns himself king, is probably guilty of the crimes, which means everyone needs to keep thinking that Elisedd is dead," the queen mother says.
"We'll be removed from service, almost definitely, especially if he's guilty, he's not going to want either of us around," my other father says.
"But we're going to find the prince anyway," I say.
"Correct, we'll stay here if it's assumed it's a Druid attack then I'm a widow and we remain in the palace Fergus doesn't have to like it," the queen says.
"We must get word to the Druids what's happened, they'll quickly confirm their guilt or not," the queen mother says, "And we need someone on our side when you do find the prince to help return him to the throne."
"Can you take a message to them?" The queen asks us.
"We're probably gonna be out of a job anyway," my other father grunts.
"Does Fergus know your loyalty to the King?" Ita asks.
"Oh yeah," he nods, "He's not gonna take chances."
"Where—and how—how are you going to find him?" The queen asks.
"Look everywhere," I don't have a firm plan.
"We'll find him," my other father says, quietly.
"But if we bring him home they'll try to kill him," the queen says.
"We'll raise an army, the people loved my son, they'll support Elisedd," the queen mother says.
"He's six," my other father says, we all look at him. "He's six years old you really think his father would be wanting him to be used a figurehead in a war that could cost him his life?"
"Who are you to speak of it?" The queen mother asks.
"Someone who loved your son more than you did."
I know my parents, and was completely ready to move in between them as she just moves to strike him.
"The crown made his life fucking hell and now it's cost him his goddamn life both his sons nearly died tonight, one saving you, and you want to sacrifice the other one? For what?" He asks, as I just drag him back but there's nowhere to drag him.
"You speak of what you don't know," the queen mother is shaking in rage.
"I know EVERYTHING and you didn't deserve him or our son or that baby who we'll be lucky if he's still alive when we find him," my other father growls as he moves my hand off his mouth.
"Bran is right," the queen says, her voice shaking, "I'm not letting EITHER of my husband's sons die for this he would not want them spending their lives avenging his death. Yes we will find MY baby, and we will bring him home. But I won't use him to start a war. It is his throne and he will have it, but you're right Bran right now his life is cheap in Ulster. All of us lost someone we love tonight, so please stop, everyone. Do you really think you're doing Conri any good by arguing we're the only people left to save my son?"
We all sort of pause for a moment, and I get my hand back over my other father's mouth so that helps until he agrees not to speak of his own accord.
"Bran, Lonan, you must try to find Elisedd, and quietly. If they did in fact take him then he's just in deep hiding. When you find him keep him safe and get word to us that he's well and we can work from there. We don't even know who is responsible at this point," the Queen says, taking another breath.
"We will," I nod.
"If it's druids they could sacrifice him. Assassins could be anywhere, it could take a while," my other father says, quietly, "But we'll find him."
"Do you have somewhere to go?" Ita asks us.
"We'll figure it out," my other father says, folding his arms, his face is flushed from crying, tears are still wet on his face. I think all of ours really.
I hear them calling outside.
"That's the all clear," my other father says.
"Please be safe," the Queen hugs me again, despite the blood.
"I'll find him," I say.
"Be safe for you, sweet boy," she says, touching my face quickly.
The queen mother just looks at us. She looks like she thinks of speaking to me, but says nothing.
"Once you're cleaned up, both of you, come to me and I'll let you see him," the queen says, squeezing my and my other father's arms.
We don't get the chance.
We're escorted directly to our rooms, told to pack and leave as we're part of the force that failed to save the king, instant disbandment. We're well aware it's a ploy to get rid of us as we were loyal to my father. But, unfortunately it's an effective one.
We're gone before noon, still bloody, wracked with grief and shock, and homeless. We have few to go to if we're right which we think we are and this is Fergus taking the throne, then he's doing a damn good job and will likely have hits out on us to clean up loose ends. Mostly me.
Bastards can't usually claim the throne, but if say, Fergus and his son were dead, and I had enough support (I don't) I could technically make a bid. I'm not going to, but it's an understandable concern it's good house keeping to just kill me. We both know that.
"Okay. Where to?" my father stares at the road ahead. His eyes are red from crying and his voice hoarse. We didn't get to say goodbye. My last image of him, always, will be lying there in his own blood, among his beloved dogs, my other father bent over him sobbing and begging him to keep on living.
"I've got a friend," I say.
"A friend with an empty castle?"
"Ah—basically."
"A friend who has no political affiliations?"
"Yeah."
"Lead the way, kid, I got nothing," he sighs.
"We can stay here while we search Bray, then as we move out your sisters," I say, practically, "I know some knights in the highlands who might at least let us rest our horses."
"Course you got friends everywhere. You're your fucking father, you know that? It hurts, you look like him too," he sighs, as he pulls his horse to follow me.
"I'm not fair."
"No but you still look like him, thank god. I'd have killed myself, if you weren't standing there you know that? I thought about it, I could draw my sword and die with him on the bed. But then I saw you standing there and no, I couldn't do that, I couldn't leave our kid," he says, tears on his cheeks.
I reach over and touch his arm, tears on my face as well, "I know," I say, softly.
"Thank you for not hating me."
"Why would I hate you?"
"He was better, we know that. He was him— it was impossible not to love him," he says, "You have it. That little boy doesn't."
"I know," I say.
"The people aren't going to love him like they loved his dad you've seen him. He's different."
"You think the druids did take him?" I ask.
"They ascribe those—differences, it's all in their magic I don't—it makes me fear the druids took him," he says, "If so it's going to be hell to get him back."
"Good thing we're hell."
I've disappointed my father many times. Frogs were usually involved. But showing up at a widow's castle, and the message, "We have nowhere to go and everyone wants to kill us" actually getting us in, is a new low.
"How do you know the Widow Derby?" He hisses, as we're lead into the castle.
"Oh, after her husband died as she was a widow and not meant to be a virgin she wanted to lose her virginity anyway and I wasn't doing anything special that night," I explain.
"What?" He stares at me.
"What?" I shrug, "I was born when you two were sixteen I can count."
"God, I knew we'd screw you up. I thought you weren't into anybody?"
"I'm not; it was a convenience thing— not that I didn't have fun. Anyway that's how I know her," I explain.
"You having an affairs with anybody else I should know about?" He asks, slowly.
"No, that's it. I mean, now and then Durst will kiss me, but that's not really an affair and I don't know why he does it and I keep meaning to ask but I forget."
"Durst Cumhail?"
"Yes, you know him?"
"Durst Cumhail whose father keeps turning him in for sorcery and trying to get him executed?"
"Oh, is that why he's often around?"
"Durst Cumhail who your father wouldn't execute just because he thinks the kid looks like more of a danger to himself than others?"
"Yeah, that's him definitely," I nod.
"Who I told your father to tell you to stay away from so nobody charged YOU with sorcery and you don't fucking listen to me so I told him to do it but he clearly didn't goddamn him," he squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking out, "And I don't get to be mad at him anymore?"
"I do listen to you," I say. I don't.
"It's fine. I don't listen to me either it's how we fucking got you, not listening to my good ideas," he mutters, as we finally reach the proper room. The serving girl who probably heard a bit of that opens the door for us, "Sir Gallagher and Sir Fitzroy, my lady."
"Lonan darling, I heard the news are you all right?" Ciara comes and takes both my hands, kissing my cheeks. She looks well in a long deep green dress, her hair loose and curly.
"My lady," I bow a bit, "This is my father, Sir Gallagher."
"I thought—you did say you have two fathers, right," she says, nodding to my father who bows, "Come, sit, I heard the news this morning and felt awful for you. It's a coup is it not?"
"Undoubtedly," I say, letting her lead us to the sofas.
"Are you in any danger what with the prince dead?" She asks.
"The corpse was mutilated, so the queen still has hope the boy lives, it's slim, however," my other father shrugs, "We're trying to see if the assassins may have spared him somehow."
"And we need somewhere to stay, if only for a few days, one room is fine—,"
"I've got loads of room in the guest quarters I hate people so no one is ever over," she says, frowning with sympathy. "Please go get yourselves cleaned up. I'm more than happy to help."