The King's Remorse

Not Dreaming, No. Maybe Nightmare-ing?

The disease in my mind feeds off of the confusion I'd felt when King Garonda XIV had told me to let the barriers in my mind drop, and it turns the feelings into anger. I continue to watch myself from the back of my mind.

1 by 1, the Guard and Soldiers vanish, crumbling to dust. My body's face remains neutral, held there by the disease. The snake in my mind smiles. Soon, it's as if the Guard and Soldiers never existed.

Bryant gasps like a little kid, clapping his hands. "Bravo!" He says. The disease gives me control of my body again. I stare at my hands. They tremble. What have I done? I can't respond to Bryant. "In shock, I know," he chuckles. "The power, you'll get used to it."

"Y-yeah," I manage to spit out.

"Go back to your room. Stay there and practice with your power. Come back here tomorrow morning. Your meals will be delivered." I nod.

I return to my room as fast as I can without having to worry about raising any questions. A few want to talk, but I brush them off, saying that I need to go and that it's urgent. They comply, apologizing and saying that they can wait. The second I'm through the door and into my room, I close the door and lock it.

What have I done? Yeah, I've killed before. It's not something I'm proud of and I know their blood will forever remain on my hands. But those Guard and Soldiers were different. It was forced. I wasn't defending Bryant. That was the disease taking over my body and using it to channel its magic through. It was killing the Guard and Soldiers through me. That makes it worse. I should've been stronger, trained a little harder. Maybe then I'd've been able to hold out against the snake and the disease and win.

I sit on the edge of the bed and look down at my hands. They still tremble. I rotate them so I look at the palms, before flipping them back over. They're not my own. I don't know who they belong to, but they're not mine. How could they do such a horrible thing? I murdered 10 people who never did anything to me. Blood drips from my fingers and runs down my wrists and arms in scarlet veins. I can't see it, but I know the blood's there.

xxxx

I lay on my back, staring blankly at the ceiling for most of the day. My mind whirls. No matter where I look, I see the Guard and Soldiers. When I try to tell them that I'm sorry, that I didn't want to do it, they turn to dust. No, no, please. "I didn't mean to," I whisper. "Please, you gotta believe me. I didn't want to." I reach out a hand, but the Guard and Soldiers whisper away, leaving behind nothing but a wispy trail of dust on the floor.

Tears roll down my cheeks. What have I done? I... I... I'm sorry.

Once the tears have run dry and all that's left is salt, I sit up. My head falls into the palms of my hands and my elbows rest on my knees.

I think about why Bryant had asked me to let the barriers in my mind down. Why he had let the Amethyst Throne wreak havoc on my mind. The only thing I can think of is when I twisted my ankle some 10 odd years ago. There are many flaws with that theory, but I don't know what else it would be. I've been called a model Soldier for years, and I've worked my way up the ranks. I answer to far fewer than who answer to me. Yet I still volunteer to do any job that's available, maybe because of the guilt, knowing that I was once in the lowest ranks of the Soldiers and only got promoted because I never hesitated or said no to an order. Those who did say no never lasted long; you don't say no to a superior. And no one says no to a King.

Yes, I did more than I needed and never said no, but I lacked the dedication held by most of the Soldiers who held the same rank I did. I wasn't ruthless. I didn't try to rise in the ranks at the expense of others. I never questioned King Garonda XIV or a superior, but questions of morals sometimes arose in my mind. No matter how much I tried to follow orders without question and forget everything except my Soldier training, I never could. I felt sympathy for Wolf and Dove when I helped bring them in. I knew it was wrong, but I felt sympathy anyways. Maybe that's why King Garonda XIV let the snake and disease into your mind, I think as I wipe drying tears from my eyes.