The Messiah [1]

13: Jax

The next few days passed in a haze of old memories Jax couldn't escape, no matter how hard he tried. Sleep evaded him, and food lost taste; it truly felt as if a piece of his soul had been taken. The king was quick in explaining that Basil had been executed for being a traitor - the idea of which sent the castle into a near panic. Everyone fluttered about, seemingly terrified of the slightest mistake. Jax walked around in a stupor, unable to cope with the loss of someone so important to him - how could his life continue, day after day, when someone so vital was missing? 

But Jax watched as it did just that; maids cleaned, Sierra played, and his father ruled with an iron fist. Everything was as it should be except Jax felt stuck in place. Constantly walking through a fog he couldn't escape - he was beginning to fear he'd never recover. Everywhere he went held memories of Basil, but Jax couldn't help roaming the halls; actively seeking out the places Basil had frequented like some sick child seeking comfort where there would be none.

The old oak tree in the center of the courtyard held scars from the years of play Jax had used it for; his favorite memory was one of climbing it only to find himself stuck too high - demanding that Basil follow him up and help him down. The older man had laughed himself silly at the sight of such a small child stuck like a kitten in a tree; he had laughed right up until Jax had fallen, breaking his arm.  But Basil had merely hushed his cries, and sat with him while it healed, reading him valiant stories of heroes who had done brave deeds. The mess hall was another sensitive place; for how many afternoons had Jax sat on those benches, mouth moving fast as he attempted to wow Basil with intricate stories he'd made up?

These places brought a pain so raw to his chest, Jax could barely breathe when he saw them. Basil had nurtured the soft heart Jax had inherited from his mother, while also honing him into the warrior Basil had know he would need to be. 

The hallway of Basil's demise was located in the same wing as the king's office. Jax often found his feet carrying him there, even when his destination was far away. There he would stand, his gaze trained on the brown stain that lay on the concrete, reflecting on how such an insignificant thing could be all that remained of a great man.

Jax stood in that hallway now, eyes misting over with tears he had yet to shed. Reality was a state of being he could no longer comprehend; for surely one could die feeling this much pain? His chest was tight, and his throat felt drier than ever before. 

"Jax? What are you doing here?" Came his father's deep voice.

Yanked from painful memories, Jax whirled to find his father standing behind him. Curiosity was the dominant expression that adorned the king's face and Jax was grateful for his tight throat. It made it impossible to spit the venomous words he could feel churning in his gut. The lack of suspicion on his father's face brought a deep sense of self-loathing Jax had never before felt. Was he really so predictable - that his father assumed he would merely accept Basil's fate and move on?

"I was looking for you..." Jax managed to choke out, searching his mind for an acceptable excuse as to why he would travel all the way to his father's office instead of just waiting to speak to with him tonight. When nothing jumped immediately to the front of his mind, Jax blurted out the first lie that rolled off his tongue, "I wanted to know what we're going to do to celebrate Sierra's birthday?"

The King frowned, "Is that a statement or a question?"

Jax cleared his throat before repeating his words, "I wanted to know what, if anything, we are planning for Sierra's birthday."

Jax watched, praying silently for some slack, as his father crossed his arms - expression bemused as he stared back at his son. 

"Sierra's birthday is in three months, Jax." The King finally said, rolling each word slowly as if Jax didn't know.