He knew. He knew with every fibre of his being. Could feel it with every pulse in his veins. Could see it in the solemn grimaces of his visitors as they watched him from the bedside. Sometimes, he could even hear the death knell that the bell tower of Lyons would toll.
He was dying.
With each beat of his heart, the vicious venom travelled and spread, leeching every bit of strength in his mind and soul until all he knew was torturous pain and agony.
Every day, it became a little harder to summon the effort needed to open his eyes. Not that there was anything particularly interesting to see. Worried commanders, concerned peers, hopeless healers... By now, he'd much rather stare at the lifeless patterns in the canvas of his tent.
Today, though, today was different.
Today, he felt oddly at peace at the thought of welcoming death like an old friend who would take him away from the constant burning that accompanied his every waking moment.
Today, he knew the time was up.
And so, when he finally opened his eyes, he was comforted by the sight of Geoffrey sitting sullenly on the floor next to his bedroll. At least, in his last remaining hours of life, he would be in the company of his last remaining family.
Geoffrey met his gaze with his one good eye, bloodshot and brimming with tears.
"You..." Dane's voice came out like the raspy croak of a dying man. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "You... should be glad."
Geoffrey furrowed his brow. "Glad... why?"
"After I die, you'll be king." He'd thought that much was obvious, yet Geoffrey continued to look confused, then affronted.
"You think... you think I'd be glad to see you die so I can be king?" Dane did not answer, so Geoffrey added, "How can you think that? You're my brother!"
Aye, but they were half-brothers, destined to be divided from birth because only one prince could rise to be king.
"I don't want the crown. I didn't come back for the bloody crown," Geoffrey said as he lifted Dane's weak, shaky hand and wrapped it with his warm, strong ones. "I want my little brother."
Dane's life was riddled with regrets, but at this point in time, his relationship with Geoffrey was by far the deepest regret of all because he'd never given it a chance.
Whatever attempts Geoffrey had made in the past to build a relationship, Dane had avoided them on the assumption that they were some scheme or trickery devised to get rid of him as a contender for the crown. It was what his full-blooded brother, Warren, had taught him—that there was no such thing as family or friends in the contest for power. Not real ones, at least.
Too late, he realised that Warren was wrong, that Geoffrey was good and honourable and deserved the crown far more than he did. And even after Warren had abducted Geoffrey, murdered his family and gouged out his other eye, Geoffrey was here, by his bedside, distraught, because they were brothers.
What irony, that the monsters which had brought destruction upon them all were the same ones he had to thank for bringing him the brother he never had. He truly was cursed, as his people said.
But there was more. "Cass..." The name of his second biggest regret, who he'd also distrusted and pushed away repeatedly until they had too little time left.
"I'll... I'll execute her if you make me take the throne," Geoffrey grumbled.
The ends of Dane's lips curled upwards. He'd never heard a threat more unconvincing. "I'd like to see you try."
YOU ARE READING
Bride to the Cursed: a Snow White retelling
Fantasy[COMPLETED] When a king makes an order, he expects it to be followed. When King Dane divorced his wife, he expected her to get out of his sight and stay out of his sight. Not reappear three months later in his bed, spouting nonsense about being a 'l...
