Dissonance

prelude - "death and sacrifice"

Royal Palace of Xindin: 153 of Karraien Calender

                Cold air seeped through the young boy's blankets, and he curled into a ball to retain warmth. Lips trembling, he opened his eyes. His brow was damp with sweat. The boy sat upright when a wave of anxiety spread over his chest.

                Darkness twisted and coiled around him, and fearfully he tore his body away and headed for the door. I'll sleep beside Dad tonight. It was far past midnight, and the boy was certain he was asleep by now. Despite ruling over a demanding country, the boy's father prioritised rest.

                He pushed open the door, ignoring the immobile servants at each side of him. The hallway was well-lit, but eerily quiet. Nothing could be heard except the winds slapping against the palace walls. He arrived at his father's bedchambers. Everybody knew not to keep the ten-year old prince from his father, and simply observed the boy lift the ornate handles of the grand double doors. He entered another realm of darkness.

                Quietly a lantern was put in his hand. The boy shut the doors behind him, moving forward with a relaxed pace. Suddenly he stumbled. With clammy hands, he pointed the light towards the floor, and saw nothing.

                Dad?

                The winding bedpost served to reassure his heart a little. The boy swallowed away the rising nausea, and scuttled to the side of the bed his father never slept on. "I'm going to sleep here tonight, Dad. I feel strange." He set the lantern on the floor, leaving it alight for reasons he didn't want to realise. Carefully, he pulled away the heavy linen covers with a smile.

                The boy's heart stopped. The silence closed in around him. This was why he had been on constant alert. He could not hear his father's soft breathing. Grasping the lantern with both hands, he leaned over the lump beside him. "...Dad?"

               Before he could make sense of the gaping mouth and bulging eyeballs, the boy screamed. A broken, agonised sound.

                -

                The kingdom cried.

                "Heart failure," the medic had explained. Even though the king was always conscious of his health – a fact even his son could attest to. On the day of the funeral, the boy stood alone in front of everyone else, wordless. He faced the sky – blue and unblemished. It was a beautiful day. It was an unfortunate incident, and a simple matter of fate. An incident that had killed a man, and broken another. 

                -

 

Mythal Palace of Fyndan: 154 of Karraien Calender

                "It can't be helped," said Orzon Mythal. It was a decision he was too obliged to make. Being the king's brother, such a request was not one he could avoid out of desperation or fatherly affection.

                "Adys, don't give me that pitying look," Orzon forced a smile. His older brother gazed at him not with the eyes of a tyrannical king, but of a loving and concerned brother. King Adys interlaced his fingers, and his hands connected with his chin in deep contemplation.

                "Since the Xindinan ruler passed away, it's been too vital a matter to produce a daughter for their prince. Without Xindinan support, we are defenceless." The king's grating voice cracked, "the doctors have warned Xena not to attempt to give birth again or it will certainly kill her."

                "It's not her fault," Orzon leaned forward on the light brown table. "Adys, I understand. We're in danger from the north and the west. If my daughter is the only way to keep our alliance with Xindin intact, I'll happily give her to you."

                Adys gritted his teeth. "It's not me you're giving her to."

               His helpless expression put Orzon's heart at ease. Despite the demanding situation, Orzon wanted Adys to feel guilty about the matter. His smile was ever present, but underneath the desk, Orzon's hands were clenched and clammy.

                My baby girl is going to leave me. My baby Alaeca.

                A croak, almost inaudible, caused Orzon to whip his head back up to face Adys with surprise. The tension between them dissipated; there were tears streaming down the king's wrinkled cheeks when he spoke, "I know you, Orzon. Stop pretending it's okay when it isn't!"

                Adys stood up, taking hold of his younger brother's hands.

                Orzon thought about his wife – her revolted, hateful, and disapproving look. Maybe she would despise him forever and resent Adys. And then that lovely face of six years flashed in his mind. Alaeca's confusion, denial... her despair of having to live within the confines of a palace and conform to its formalities, when her innate nature was to roam without limitation. Alaeca was a spirited, eccentric, and unnaturally bright child. Soon, Orzon would be unable to call Alaeca his daughter, and she would address another man as "Papa".

                -

                The hand of fate was unjust to two families; one would harbour everlasting guilt, and the other would hide powerful resentment. Perhaps the most harrowing existence of all would be that of the young girl and boy.