The Prince of Maidora sat at the feet of the King. a day had passed and yet it was still raining heavily; a sign from the gods. A lament for Aglaesha. Conlaed was wearing black again. Only black. Behind him, Hanrick was tense, Tenna anxious. Their son gazed at the dancing with disgust. His fiancée had perished and no one cared. It seemed one day was enough for the world to forget one of the greatest Mages of their time.
Conlaed shifted in his seat, wincing as he felt blood starting to drip down his back. The day before, he had refused to see his physician, despite Jules' pleas. Con couldn't risk being imprisoned or drugged - he had to fulfill his oath. He knew if Brilyn were with him, he would urge him against it, plead with him to wait for more evidence other than magic. There is no other evidence. Conlaed had to trust himself. He was tired of being told what he should do. He had waited for so long. Justice cost everything. It took Aglaesha's murder and Brilyn's imprisonment to push him in the right direction. He had never realized the price of retribution.
All his life, Conlaed had been told to show mercy. Maxum had taught him to grant humility instead of wreaking revenge. So far mercy and patience had taken his princess from him and gotten himself captured. Patience had filled his mind with doubt and confusion instead of the whole truth. The longer he waited, the more twisted the truth became. If he waited any longer the truth would be lost forever. Con was left to cling to the scraps of twisted lies and distorted memories. For months his life had been full of fear and rage. All because of his real father.
The prince's eyes followed Hanrick as he rose from his throne to join the crowd. A confident smile played on his lips, but his gait was jumpy. He was afraid. Excellent. Con studied the rest of the crowd. None of them wore black. The court was a sea of bright gowns and doublets, laughter and drunks. The entire mass of people disgusted him. Conlaed's lips quirked as he watched the King scan the crowd for two deceitful knights. Con wondered if those same knights cursed him for the disfigurements he had gifted them. Most likely. It gave the prince more pleasure than he cared to share, that two handsome young men were on a boat to the Ruby city with little coin, burned faces and no lodgings. Perhaps they will run into Lorenzo.
The name panged in his head. Does he even know his sister and father are dead? Very little messengers were willing to brave Caspleigh's capital city in order to deliver a condolence to a lordling. When I kill Hanrick I will go myself.
Conlaed's hand went to the inside of his black cloak. The dagger hidden there was razor sharp; perfect for slitting the throats of traitorous kings. It had an ornate handle made of golden tiger eye stone. It was light and the right size to conceal. That morning Jules had given it to him, a knowing gleam in his brown eyes. The servant had said only one thing to him -
"Sometimes we must be ruthless to win. Sometimes mercy is not enough."
The words had rung so true to Con, that he bowed to the manservant before taking the dagger.
A hand tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Conlaed turned to see his mother staring frightfully at him. He glared at Tenna and snapped, "What do you want, mother?"
She gulped. "Conlaed, I am truly sorry. I know you loved her like I loved your father."
"I think I loved her more than that," Con spat, rising elegantly to his feet. The Queen rose also, eyes glassy.
"I must talk with you in private, sweet son. Please - it will only take a moment, I swear."
Tenna stroked his arm timidly, urging him to follow. Con scowled. The Queen clutched his arm tightly, and in her eyes sparked something terrible. Enthralled by the horrible light in her eyes, Con muttered, "Fine."
She led him through the crowd of dancing courtiers and toward the door into the gardens. It was pouring rain and the wind blew strongly. The prince glanced behind to the castle. Still, he followed Tenna as she led him onto the drenched grass and deeper into the gardens.
"Where are we going?" Conlaed yelled over the roaring wind and rain. He cursed as he stepped into a deep puddle. His mother pulled him on, calling, "Not much further, my dear!"
My dear? What is she playing at?
The gardens were practically flooded. At the base of each plant and tree was a puddle twice its size. Conlaed pulled his cloak around him as the heavy rain assaulted him from behind. With every step, freezing water soaked through his boots and numbed his poor feet. Mud squelched with each step and it took a lot of effort not to fall over. Through the gathering mist he could still see the road of verbena, stark against the grey and silver of the enormous puddles. Con's heart gave a tug. Don't think about her. She's... she's somewhere better.
They splashed across the gardens, rather blindly it seemed. Conlaed was shivering violently, while the Queen was unfazed by the freezing winds. Winter seemed it was going to be drearier than usual if rain came instead of snow.
"We are here!" Tenna yelled eagerly, trudging into the mist hurriedly. Con grumbled as he followed her. His garments were ten times heavier wet and the small weight of the dagger weighed him down even more. The prince only prayed his mother could not see the bulge of the weapon through the fabric that had moulded to it. The puddles to wherever 'here' was, were the deepest they had gone through. The dirt and grass had eroded away and instead of a patch of lush grass, there was a pool of cloudy water that almost reached his knees.
When the prince's feet met soggy grassy, he almost danced. Conlaed glanced around and his spirits drowned instantly.
The oak tree glistened. Its leaves were covered in droplets that sparked like rough diamonds, even in the gloom. The smell of wet bark was thick in the air and the tiny rustle from above sent droves of water down atop Conlaed's already drenched head. Tenna stood by the tree, eyes faraway.
"Why did you bring me here?"
Tenna blinked and turned to her son, eyes suddenly sad. She smiled sweetly and trudged to him. Her voice was indifferent. "So much has happened at this tree. She gestured to the newly dug grave a few feet away from theme, a marble tombstone at its head. Con forced his eyes back to his mother.
"We found your father here. We buried Aglaesha here..."
"What did you want to tell me?" Con snapped, goosepimples spreading over his skin. The Queen placed her icy hands on his cheeks, tears or rain - he could not tell - streaming down her face. "This tree is special to me, Conlaed. This day will be special to me forever."
"What are you talking about?"
She moved one hand to her skirts, while the other held the side of his neck firmly. Her fingers on his neck stroked his frozen skin. "I failed you Conlaed. I failed Maxum. M-my lies broke our family apart. I broke our family apart." Tenna gripped him harder, strangled sobs rattling her quivering body. "You... my baby boy. You suffered the most. I broke you. I am so sorry. I can only hope you will forgive me."
She drew a long knife from the folds of her dress.
"Mother!"
She went to plunge it into her own belly, when the prince twisted it out of her grip. Tenna pushed him into the deep puddle, eyes glassy. Con hissed and crawled away, back burning. I probably should have called for the physician. Con splashed through the puddle, heart racing. He was cold as death as he staggered out of the water and back onto the soggy grass. He could see Tenna staggering toward him, weeping wretchedly. Conlaed stumbled forward, always forward. An instinct within him wouldn't let him stop, would not let him drop the knife.
Con trudged into the mist, stomach turning. For all her lies and her ungodliness, her cruelty and deceit, the prince could not let Tenna plunge the knife into her heart. He had lost too much already. It did not matter anymore that his mother was the opposite of a good human being – Conlaed loved her. He loved her as much as he had loved Aglaesha. She was his mother. He could not lose her. No matter how much he hated her.
He could hear the unsteady footfalls of the Queen behind him. Tenna's voice was pleading and weak, unlike anything he had heard before. So full of agony. So full of regret.
"Conlaed... Please, do not run from me. Let me make amends. I cannot live like this anymore, Conlaed. I am so tired of it all."
Con swallowed a cry.
The prince was almost out of breath when he smacked into a tree trunk. He blinked at it. His eyes did not deceive him. Conlaed had gone in a circle. The prince cursed foully and peered up. A thick branch hung above his head. The only escape from his mother's madness he could calculate. Conlaed grit his teeth as the skin on his back tore when he scrambled upon the branch. He reached up and found another branch. Keep going up. Con could only hope his mother couldn't see him. The branches were slippery with rain and each slip of the foot caused his heart to stop.
Con clung to the branch he perched on when he felt more hot blood trickled down his back. The prince was exhausted and sore. Conlaed let out a small sob when a voice called out beneath him, "I can see you Conlaed. Come down, give me the knife. You do not have to watch, my darling. Just lay me down when it is finished."
Through the mist he could see the Queen staring up at him, begging. That's when he realized he was not very high up at all. In fact, he was only three branches above the lowest branch. The Queen went as far as falling to her knees. He shook his head at her, dizzy with nausea. Tenna's aquamarine eyes shone with miserable tears. She pointed at the knife in her son's shaking hand. Con leaned back against the tree trunk and cried, "I cannot lose anyone else, mother! I can't."
"I will never leave you, Conlaed!" Tenna moaned over the rain. "Come down! Let it be over!"
Con's shaking hand fingered the Queen's knife. He was going to vomit as he carefully put the weapon in his mouth and began to climb down from his perch. Tenna went silent. The air around him froze as he dropped onto the wet grass. Conlaed couldn't breathe as he stumbled to where his mother knelt, tears flowing. I'm a monster. Tenna looked up, bright eyes pleading. They were not the eyes he knew. She reached up and tugged on the bottom of his doublet.
Con took the knife of his mouth and gazed down at it. A strange numbness settled over him. He was deaf as the knife found its way in the Queen's trembling hands. Tenna slowly rose, lips stretched into a smile the young prince would never forget. His mother kissed him on both cheeks. He shivered as her fingers ran softly across his brow. "You are going to be the greatest king, my darling. Your father would be proud. Your true father."
"Hanrick?" Con whispered softly. Tenna shook her head.
"Maxum, my dear. Maxum."
Conlaed smiled sadly as his mother murmured, "Go. Turn away."
"No."
Sound only returned to his ears when Tenna stilled. The prince held her as her raised the knife and plunged it into her heart. Miraculously, the Queen made no terrible sound as blood gurgled from her lips, red as rubies. Conlaed held tight, tears spilling down his cheeks as her body went limp. With a heavy heart, he laid her beneath the oak tree. He closed her eyes and arranged her hands over the bloody hole in her chest. Soaked by the rain, beneath the oak tree, his mother finally looked like a true Queen. He wondered if she roamed with Aglaesha among the stars. Con leaned down and kissed his mother's brow gently. He hadn't saved her. Another lost.
As he turned away, his feet felt like stones. Each step made his chest tighter. Each minute that passed made the impossible a reality. I am just as bad as the rest of my family, Con thought gravely as he wobbled back to the castle. He had placed the knife in his mother's hands. He was responsible for her passing as much as herself. Con was no better than Hanrick.
She wanted to go. It was cruel to take the choice away from her. Mother was miserable. She only wanted to be free. Mother was so tired...
The reason of the situation was no consulation. Nothing forgave the blood on his hands. Con was a murderer.
He felt ill as he passed the marble water fountain settled amongst the gardens' bushes of scarlet roses. The statue in the centre was of the Queen Userra atop her loyal Mist bear Chara. Con paused for a moment to gaze at it forlornly. He guessed Userra had never willingly let a loved one perish. She was too honourable for that. The prince stared at Chara; the bear section was not crafted from glass like the rest of the fountain, but iron. If only Chara swallowed me whole. That's more than I deserve.
Conlaed's eyes moved to the gold plaque at the bottom of the fountain. The gold letters were enormous beneath the water. As he read, guilt began to suffocate him.
'FEAR IS THE PATH TO DESTRUCTION.
PAIN IS THE PATH TO JUSTICE.
REVENGE IS THE PATH TO DEATH.
CHOOSE.'
It seemed Conlaed had selected all three.