The King

Once Bartholomew had gotten over the initial shock of seeing his nephew again, he gave a sinister grin.

“Dearest Brian, I’m so surprised to see you… alive,” he snapped, glancing menacingly over at Winston, who was one of the Renegade guards positioned about the room, waiting to attack the intruder. Bartholomew had half a mind to give the order immediately, but decided it would be much more interesting to see how the situation played out.

Brian looked away from his mother, shooting daggers at his uncle with just one look.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bury this blade in your chest,” he snarled, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike. He couldn’t hold himself back from getting to his feet.

“Brian, you… you must understand,” Bartholomew began, and Brian could see the fear in his uncle’s eyes as he stood before him. “Ruling a kingdom… the responsibilities…”

“Are mine,” Brian cut in, taking a step closer. “And I’ve come to rightfully claim them. You will step down.”

“Well, you see, dear Brian… I would. Though there seems to be… a slight problem,” Bartholomew sneered with a grin as he slowly got to his feet. “The Renegades… They think I am the king.

At that exact moment, Lyndsey burst through the throne room doors, followed by most of the men and women of the court that will still loyal to the real royal family.

“Well we don’t! Brian’s the king, and you know that Bartholomew,” she called out, getting her own sword ready. Brian turned to look back at her and gave her a reassuring smile. He then took a step back away from the throne before looking back at his uncle.

“You can have it one of two ways. Either step down from the throne, or I will take it form you. Forcibly,” Brian practically growled. He watched as Bartholomew slinked his way down from the throne, inching his way around to the other side of the room. He didn’t dare let himself believe that Bartholomew would really let it be that easy.

“Must it really all end in violence? I for one would hate to be responsible for the death of a family member. Wouldn’t you agree Brian?”

“Your words won’t hurt me, Bartholomew. I’ve put all of that behind me,” Brian said, his teeth grit tightly as he spoke.

“Oh, yes, but what about your dear faithful subjects? Have they?” Bartholomew sneered with a toothy smile, pointing at Lyndsey and the people of the court.

Confused, Lyndsey looked to Brian, her brow furrowed. Brian felt his nerves rising under her stare.

“What is he talking about Brian?” she pressed gently.

“Oh!” Bartholomew gasped, feigning shock. “So you haven’t told them? I guess now’s your chance then. Go on, Brian. Tell them who is responsible for the king’s death!” Bartholomew howled out with an evil cackle.

Brian hung his head as he heard the gasps from Lyndsey, his mother, and his subjects. He was ashamed to even look at them now that they knew. He could feel the hot tears of both sadness and rage filing his eyes.

“I am…” he finally called out, knowing everyone had heard him.

“It’s not true!” Suzannah cried, stepping forward. “My son wouldn’t do something like that. Brian, there has to be some kind of mistake here.”

Despite the pleading look in his mother’s eyes, Brian knew he had to tell the truth.

“It’s true.”

“You see!?” Bartholomew shrieked, now standing between Brian and the door to the throne room. “He was found with the sword in his hand, stained with his father’s blood. He admits it. He’s a murderer!”

“No! It was an accident. He was trying to save me, I-“

“If it weren’t for you, the king would still be alive,” Bartholomew pointed out. Out of the corner of his eye, Brian would see the Renegade guards in the corners of the room coming closer, and more of them filing in from the corridor.

“It’s your fault he’s dead!” Bartholomew then shouted. “Do you deny it?”

“No.”

“Then you’re guilty! Guards!”

At once the guards began to scurry across the room toward Brian. Seeing this, his eyes widened and he took a few stumbling steps back toward the throne.

“No! I’m not a murderer! I- I didn’t…” Brian stuttered. Against Bartholomew alone he was once courageous, but against the vastly overpowering number of Renegades slowly closing in on him, Brian felt about as brave as a child.

“Oh my… it looks like you’re in trouble again, Brian,” Bartholomew called out as a thunderous boom sounded from the clouds above. He began to creep back toward his nephew, cornering him at the throne. “But this time, your father isn’t here to save you. And now everyone knows why!”

With that Bartholomew lunged forward, causing Brian to rear back and fall into the throne. He pulled out his own sword and branched it in Brian’s direction.

“Brian!” Lyndsey cried, trying to go to him, but she felt Suzannah hold her back.

“Now, this looks familiar,” Bartholomew muttered so only Brian could hear him. He could so easily remember the same look upon the king’s face as he cowered in his own throne two years ago. “Where have I seen this before… leaning over the weak in their last moment of life? Ahh yes… I remember, Brian. You see, this is exactly the way your father looked before he died. You even have the same pleading look in your eyes as he did,” he sneered, watching Brian’s eyes slowly widen with realization. “And now I must let you in on a little secret, though I do hate spoiling all the fun.” Leaning in closer, Bartholomew laughed quietly in Brian’s ear.

“I killed your father.”