The Princess and The Dragon

Epilogue - Of Grief and Forgiveness

   I had run out of the castle toward Cule’s house, closely followed by Aymar. Soon thereafter I heard my father following us, trying to stop me from exiting the grounds, but I would not stop.

   I could not believe that Alok was killed, it simply could not have happened. He was brave and strong and perfectly capable of holding his own in a fight. Who would have been foolish enough to challenge him?

   It was when I voiced these thoughts that Aymar told me that he had been murdered in his sleep: he had wanted an early night’s rest, and Aymar had gone out on an errand for their drunken father, who had not even noticed the culprit sneaking in and killing his son.

   When we reached Cule’s house, the old fool was crying next to Alok’s bed, and I screamed. I screamed because I could not accept the fact that he was dead, or the brutal way that he had been killed: slashes and bruises covered his body. His eyes were open and they stared ahead, past me as my tears fell. When my father arrived on the scene, he called for his guards and demanded a doctor to determine when he had been killed. All this passed by me in a blur, and I fell to the ground. Arms wrapped around me, but I did not know whose.

   All I knew, as I sat there crying over Alok’s body, was that I had yet again, failed to protect a friend, and he had been such a good friend: he endangered his own safety in order to keep my secret, and even after that, he had remained loyal to me, giving me advice against Godan and Flarescream and wishing me good luck.

   “Who would have done this?” Aymar asked, and I realised he was the one holding me, “He was witty, but everyone knew his heart was in the right place. No one would have dared to come near him with ill intentions.”

   “No one except Godan,” I said angrily, and it all made sense.

   “What did you say, Allania?” my father asked me. Aymar helped me stand up, but did not let go of my shoulders.

   “It was Godan,” I told my father, but my eyes never left Alok’s body. “He had forced Alok to spy on me, and threatened to kill him more than once. He treated him like a slave. Flarescream must have told him today that Alok had given me advice against him, and that set him off. I’m positive that he was the one who killed Alok.” I looked over my shoulder at my father. “Can we please give him a royal funeral? He deserves nothing if not a proper goodbye.”

   “Of course, lass,” my father said, “Go home and get some rest. We shall have a funeral tomorrow.”

 *

   The following day, nearly everyone in the city gathered behind the castle, clothed in black, around the pyre atop which Alok was placed. His attire had been changed to what Aymar had thought to be his favour pair of pants, and his favourite buttoned shirt. His hands were on his chest, and two coins were on his eyes.

   I stood beside Aymar and his father, aware of their tears more than my own, as the head of the city’s church eulogised Alok, and then the pyre was set on fire, and everyone cried even more. We all knew that he had been a great asset to the city: he had helped everywhere he could.

   “Why was he taken from me?” Cule muttered. “Why have I lost my son?”

   “Do you wish that our places had been switched, Father?” Aymar asked softly, “That I had died and Alok had lived?”

   “I wish that very much,” Cule replied, turning around and storming back to his home.

 *

   I spent the day at my bedroom window. A few hours after the funeral, I noticed a commotion in the city. I heard yells and screams and suddenly there was the smoke of a fire. I gasped, and Randa, who had been replacing my sheets, looked up.