The King

It seemed like no time at all before Brian found his way down to the river. It always felt like whenever he needed to think or needed alone time, that secluded place along the water was where he ended up. But he only stopped to take in the silence for a moment as his anger still boiled through him.

With a low growl to himself Brian reached own and picked up a rock from the bank, throwing it as far and as hard as he possibly could.

“You said you’d always be there for me!” Brian shouted to the oncoming dusk, picking up another rock and throwing it. The more he threw the more he felt his rage toward the death of his father waning away. Suddenly feeling spent, Brian collapsed to his knees, dropping the rock he had in hand before sitting down.

“And it’s all my fault. It’s my fault you’re dead,” Brian began to sob, feeling overcome with the guilt he’d been repressing the last two years.

After awhile, Brian calmed himself down, breathing deeply as he watched the river flow along. He did not hear a sound as someone joined him.

“Hello there, my dear boy.”

Startled, Brian quickly turned around, eyes wide and heart pounding before he realized it was only a friar.

“Who are you?” he asked, no longer feeling intimidated. The friar kindly smiled, coming to take a seat along the shore next to Brian.

“I think the real question is… who are you?” the friar asked, sounding cryptic. “Do you even know?”

Deciding to buy into the friar’s ambiguous conversation, Brian sighed, and answered.

“I thought I did. But now I’m not so sure anymore. I’ve been… different for so long now.”

A moment of silence passed between the two, the friar nodding his head in acknowledgement.

“I know who you are,” he stated bluntly, causing Brian to jerk his head to the side, staring at the friar strangely.

“How? Pardon me, but I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Brian demanded, and even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. While he was certain he’d never met the man before, there was something uncannily familiar about him. The friar just smiled, letting out a kind laugh.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re king Brian’s son. I blessed you the day you were born,” the friar explained, and Brian could feel a tightness growing in his chest, his mouth going dry.

“You… you knew my father?”

“No,” the friar answered, and Brian felt his heart sinking. “I know your father.”

“You… must not have been informed then,” Brian said solemnly, his heart sinking even further. “My father died. About two years ago.”

“And that is once again where you are wrong,” the friar said, and Brian glanced over at him, confused. “Come here.”

With that, the friar got to his feet and moved closer to the water’s edge. When Brian hadn’t followed him, he turned and beckoned the young man to him. “Come.”

Reluctantly Brian got to his feet and made his way next to the friar, looking out across the water to the other bank, wondering what the friar was going to do or say.

“Look down, at the water. You will see.”

Glancing down, Brian felt even more perplexed than ever. All he saw was the reflection of himself and the friar, and the tree branches hanging above them. Sighing, Brian frowned ever so slightly as he and his reflection locked eyes.

“That’s just me. That’s just my reflection,” Brian said, shrugging before he looked back up at the friar.

Yes. But… look harder.”

Looking at the friar skeptically, Brian looked back down to the water, staring at his own face looking up at him. The harder he stared the more and more he began to realize what the friar meant. He had the same high cheekbones, same strong jaw of his father. Their noses were practically identical, and their eyes were both the same shade of brown. In all, Brian looked just how he imagined a young version of the king would look. And in realizing this, his eyes began to well up with tears. Brian smiled.

“He lives in you, Brian,” the friar said gently, watching as the realization hit. “He always has, and he always will. He has been a part of you since the day you were born.”

“But it still doesn’t change anything. I’m not like him anymore.”

“Change is not always bad, you know,” the friar said wisely.

“Maybe not, but it’s not easy either. I know what I should do but…” Brian began, sighing deeply. “If I go back I have to face everything that has happened. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I’ve been running from my past for so long.”

Without wasting a second, the friar reached out and smacked Brian in the back of the head.

“Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?!” Brian yelped, quickly rubbing the sore spot growing on his skull.

“What does it matter if it’s in the past?” the friar asked with a short laugh.

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Brian scowled.

“Yes, the past can hurt,” the friar began. “But you can choose to either run from it, or learn from it. We all make mistakes, but that’s how we grow. It’s how we learn. And this is where I leave you, Brian. I trust in you to make the right decision.”

With that, the friar turned from the river and walked back up the bank and out of sight, leaving Brian alone to ponder his thoughts.

It didn’t take too long for Brian to make his choice, and with a quick nod of his head to himself, he followed the path the friar had taken, making his way back home to sleep.