You Don't Want the Crown

The Story of Conri - 4

It's all surprisingly simple. I don a disguise, and hire assassins to kill myself and the boy. It's easy enough a crime for Fergus my uncle to have committed. And he can have the crown. I don't want it anymore.
My own death is trickier than my son's to arrange. I'm adept enough in spells now to put on a simple glamor over a corpse. It's not going to hold up to scrutiny, but the only person who truly knows me, or my body, is Bran, and he's never going to be allowed to dress it or anything to notice the lack of any scars.
And everything will be better off.
Lonan, I visit in the armory.
"Get some sleep, yeah?" I ask, leaning in the doorway, willing him to come and hug me goodnight, "That'll keep till morning."
"Yeah, I'll send my other father up," he says, idly.
"Do not, I have a cold that he will immediately contract I've been avoiding him and Cuan both stick their faces in mine instantly," I say, feigning a cough. I hardly want Bran coming up early.
"Good job I ignore you then," he laughs, starting to pack up.
"Yeah, good job you, all right, see you in the morning for that meeting," I say, stopping myself from going to squeeze him.
"See you in the morning," he says, nicely, but not really looking up. He's tired. He's a boy. And it's time for me to go so he can learn how to be a man properly, from his father. Not from the likes of me.
I can't say goodbye to Bran. I've avoided him these past few days. He'd know if he saw me. He'd know, that man knows me. So I do nothing.
"Night mother," she's going to have the worst night of her goddamn life I'm practically giggling.
"Goodnight, Conri, you look well."
"Zest for life," I smile, "Look over those reports I left on your desk?"
"I will," she says, frowning, surprised why I stopped in her room. I'm sending several assassins to her if she dies she dies.
Slaine is already in her room, the door is closed.  Fine.
I look in on Cuan. Sleeping peacefully, ugly little face smashed into the pillow, gold hair all a mess, roaches crawling in it. I smile.
"Good night, sweet prince," I say, closing his room door all the way. "For you shall not wake again."
I go back to my room. The corpse I procured earlier in the day, with some trouble. It is my morgue, but even so. I dress the poor man in my clothes, and lay him in my bed. I look around, unsure of what to take that wouldn't be missed. I settle on a beaten piece of mail hammered into a bracelet, Bran gave it to me as a joke, years ago, before Lonan was born. I doubt if he remembers. I slide it on, smiling a little.
And then I go. A quick glamor spell and I'm unrecognizable. I slip out of the palace, and into the night. A new life, far away from Ulster.