Long Live The King

Chapter Seven

As the weeks passed by, Miara adapted to life with the Charmings. The family took her in, treated her like one of their own, and cared for her as the news came in from outside the capital.

Her father had been killed in the battle of Reyn Woods. The few men that made it back alive swore that he was the man who had killed the King, but that the heir to the throne had killed him. It was a noble death, an honourable death, and she should be proud that her father had died in such a way.

Her brothers had fought alongside their father, and all had died in the fire. Some were burned; some were trampled by the enemy. But none came home.

When the soldiers told her, Miara stared them in the eyes and asked "Are you staying here?"

"Of course," The soldiers replied. "We've been called back to protect the King."

She didn't miss a beat. "Then train me. Train me like your men trained my father and my brothers. I want to fight."

The soldiers couldn't speak, but one shed angry, silent tears. After a moment to digest what she had said, he spoke up. "A girl like you shouldn't have to fight,"

If you could see this girl, you would sympathise with the soldier. She was fair skinned, blue-eyed with blonde ringlets – she was the iconic image of an angel. She was thin, and short; all in all, she was the antithesis of a warrior.

But she was adamant. "If you don't teach me, I'll find someone who will. It's that or get killed or raped by some Sirnian man."

"How the hell do you know that word?"

Miara snorted, "What, rape? I'm a kid, not dumb. Mama always warned me what bad men do. It's why father wanted to fight – he wanted to fight the bad men. Now he's gone, if I can't fight them no one will. Mama can't fight, someone's got to protect her when she gets here."

The men didn't know what else to say. They were too tired to argue with her, and in some way, teaching the girl seemed like a good cause because, in the end, her logic was valid: if someone wanted to hurt her they could.

It was a couple of days later that more soldiers turned up at the city, looking weary and defeated. That day, Miara was in the palace courtyard, training with a wooden sword with the soldiers, when the injured were carried in by the other survivors. Everyone stopped to watch, and pay their respects. As they waited for a physician to arrive, Miara walked among the men, looking, until she finally found a familiar face.

"Uncle!" She cried, running to a man on a stretcher. He was bald and bearded, and the main distinguishing feature was a battle-scar on his crown from decades before. The man was bloody, and much thinner than he had been; as she came closer to him, she saw his leg and froze in her steps. The bone was protruding from the wound, white and un-missable. The man was barely awake, but her voice had sparked some recognition in him.

"Miara?"

"Uncle? Are you...okay?"

He sighed. "Little one...your mother..."

"I haven't seen her, uncle,"

The men who had been carrying him spoke up. "Your mother?" "Blonde woman, blue eyes, brown dress?"

Miara paused, and nodded. "Mama calls that her herb dress." She saw the shared looks between the men, and her heart sank. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Their brows furrowed, but the men both nodded. "She was attacked by the Sirnians. We saw her try to fight them, and your uncle got involved. He tried to save her. We all did. But they broke your uncle's leg, and before we could get to her they..." The one speaking paused, his jaw clenched. The other soldier spoke up. "I'm sorry. She's gone."

From inside the castle, the call rang out: "Bring them in!" The soldiers offered their condolenses once more before carrying her uncle inside. Miara watched their procession of injured and broken men, but before the last man entered the castle she ran for the servants' corridor. She raced, faster and faster, through doorway and alley, through street and garden, until she found herself at the gates.

"Let me out," She yelled at the guard. He ignored her. "Are you deaf? Let me out, now!" She screamed.

He glanced down at her. "Fuck off, kid,"

Her face grew red; she was about to throw herself, biting and kicking and screaming at the guard, when a hand grabbed hers. She looked, and saw Callum standing there, holding onto her with all his strength.

"Mimi?"

Mimi. At the sound of the nickname her defences collapsed and the dams broke; she fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the street.

"Mama's gone. They're all gone. All of them."

Callum sat beside her, and hugged her tight. "It'll be okay, Mimi. I won't go. I'm right here for you. It'll be okay."