The sound of guns and artillery fire echoed through the palace halls. The sky was dark and tumultuous, bearing the ill fate through smoke and fire that the man was to feel in due time. His hands were bloodied in the pursuit of a better life. One for himself, his family, and for his people.
The city buildings were built low, hugging the ground. His sight was narrow, seeing only the balls of flames as they rose among the horizon. Life as he knew it was over, the enemy forces had launched a full frontal assault. His commander had already sent word. They were outnumbered. Nuclear assault was an option, but it would just lead to complete destruction. Surrender would at least leave his people somewhat safe. Enslaved once again, but this time they would be united. Or at least he hoped.
From behind him, he could hear his eldest son, asking his mother questions as to the source of the noise.
"Are we going to die, mommy?"
The man's wife, sweet and tender, caressed her son's face and with every ounce of resolve mustered the courage to speak without a single tear falling or the slightest sense of fear.
"No, honey. Your father has everything under control."
If only he had married an oracle; what she said would have been true. His slumped shoulders perked up, back into the place where they had stayed for years on end. In the proud embrace of a leader's stance. Turning his gait to face them, the man smiled. He truly didn't know what he was supposed to do. He was stuck with the option of fighting to his death versus running and being seen as a coward. The thoughts of others had no place in his heart, but the love of his people drew him to action. To his wife's maidservants, he asked to keep the children safe. They would be able to direct them through the tunnels leading to the north shore where his personal guard could escort them out.
His wife insisted on staying with him for a little while longer. For all she knew this was the last of him she'd ever see.
She accompanied him from the balcony to the main hall. She held his arm and the two walked together, side-by-side, through the great and empty halls of the palace they once called home. It was a regal affair, high domed ceilings and ornate golden fixtures lined the place. Art of previous rulers lined the wall. A thick red carpet made in the style of those found in Persia lay afoot the main path that the couple took. They were royal in dress but commoners in heart. The cause for which so many had died was one he was willing to throwaway for his own selfish peace. His actions were always found to be of the opposite sentiment, however.
It didn't take long for them to climb the red steps of the forking staircase. They were silent, each remembering the moments of the past with each glance of the palace around them. It was the little flower table at the end of the stairs which their firstborn had run into. He was notified immediately of his son being prepped for surgery. Details were spared and he had rushed to the hospital fearing a far worse predicament than a simple scar on the boy's forehead. She was calm, however. Smiling and whispering sweet nothings to their son as he lay in his bed, asleep. He could still remember the rush of his heart catching in his throat as he saw her laying beside the boy and mothering him. Her smile, the crinkle of her eyes, the sparkle in them as she saw him arrive. They'd slept at home that night, with the boy snoring smack-dab in the middle of their bed. The boy took after his grandfather, that was a fact.
Without his knowing, the man was smiling, ear to ear. He distinctly felt the relaxing of his facial muscles as his secretary came running to him, bearing news.
"Sire, they've reached the front gates of the palace and are demanding we surrender."
The secretary took a breath. He would miss him dearly.
"They've given us one hour."
With a nod, he dismissed him.
She didn't say a word.
The great doors of his office were a sight to behold. It looked as if they guarded the secret to the coming of Christ. Emblazoned with the golden insignia of the lion and the lotus, the doors stood proudly, welcoming only those who led the colours of the King and country.
She shut the doors behind them and walked to his side as he sat in his chair. The shape of his figure was imprinted into the seat and rests. It was as much a part of him as he was a part of his chair.
"What will you do, dear?"
"Would you have ever guessed, Sarah? That we'd come back to the country our parents left. To take it back from corruption?"
She knelt at his side and took his hand in hers. She examined it. New lines had formed in it since she had first seen it. When he was just entering the halls of manhood.
"No. I don't really know if we ever wanted to either."
He chuckled heartily.
A single tear dropped. It took its time drawing to her cheekbone, before visibly falling towards her lips.
She kissed his hand.
"I must go soon."
She couldn't bear to stay any longer. Her heart was in pieces. Everything they'd built. It was all coming to an end.
He smiled as he fought back tears.
"You filled every role I gave you perfectly."
His hand went to her face. He held her chin up as more tears fell down her face.
A tear rushed out as he formed the following words:
"I'm sorry."
She began to sob. Her soft and delicate voice contorted in pain as she wailed. He brought her towards him and she cried against his breast. He wrapped his arms around her, gripping her tight and close. He buried his head in her hair, his breath wetting her dark brown locks. Her hands sat against his chest, gripping at the cloth of his military suit; the red and gold, darkening from her tears.
A few solemn moments passed as they held each other.
"It is as my grandfather said. Men of fire never last."
With that, he stood up and steeled himself. The clicks of his shoes sounded his final steps as he made his way out to the palace entrance. She wiped away her tears, took a deep breath and made her way to the tunnel entrance where her hand-maidens awaited her.
