The King

The crash of glass and loud screams from inside brought Brian back to the real world. Sitting upright full of alarm, he broke away from Lyndsey and focused his attention back on the castle. The screams of terror that could be heard from inside set off alarms in his head and Brian quickly stood. He barely waited for Lyndsey as he headed through the gardens and the courtyard, the ruckus getting louder the closer he got.

Brian quickly rushed to the doors leading into the castle and stopped short at the sight before him. Somehow the Renegades had broken into the castle, their dirty swords drawn in attempts to siege it. Already there were lifeless bodies littering the ballroom floor, the blank stares of innocent, unaware faces looking back up at Brian. Lyndsey rushed to his side and gasped, holding tightly onto Brian as her wide eyes took in the scene before her.

Had Brian had his sword on him he would have done something to fight back along with the few knights and noblemen that had already begun. But the Renegades were pouring into the castle at a quick pace, easily overpowering the many women in the room, and Brian knew the only thing he could do was get Lyndsey to a safe place, find his sword, and return to the ballroom. His only other option was to hide; it was not a move Brian was willing to make. The king had told him to not go looking for trouble, but now it seemed trouble had found him. This was Brian's chance to prove himself to his father, to redeem himself from the scene he had caused in Renegade Alley.

"Come on," he said, taking a firm hold of Lyndsey's hand. He tried to find the fastest route to the grand staircase through the melee of distressed subjects and clashing swords. He took the steps two at a time, feeling his arm tug backwards as Lyndsey stumbled and lost her footing. Brian pulled her to her feet and ushered her up the last two steps, intent on leading her further into the caste and toward her bed chambers, when someone grabbed his arm with great force.

Brian's heart pounded as he whipped around, only to be met with the worried stare of his father.

"Come," he said hurriedly, and he escorted both the prince and Lyndsey down the long corridor. It seemed like no time at all the king was opening the door to Lyndsey's chambers. Taking the young lady by the shoulders, the king looked hard into her eyes.

"Lyndsey, you must stay inside. Do not come out until it is absolutely safe," he ordered, earning a sharp nod. With one last glance at Brian, Lyndsey retreated through the door, locking it behind her.

"You, follow me," the king then demanded, looking down at Brian.

"Are we going to fight?" the prince asked, eyes shining at the prospect.

"No. I need to keep you safe as well," the king answered shortly, quickly moving down the corridor with Brian trailing him.

"Father, if this is to one day be my kingdom, I should be able to fight for its safety," Brian reasoned, trying to make the king see that he needed to do this.

"You don't understand," the king replied darkly, glancing at his son over his shoulder. "The Renegades haven't shown up just by chance. They've come here to kill you, the heir to the throne. If you go out and fight, you will only be endangering yourself and making their task all the more obtainable." Reaching Brian's chamber door, the king opened it and pushed him inside.

"Father-"

"No, Brian. If you ever listen to me, make it be this time. The kingdom can not afford to lose you," the king pressed further, and without another word he closed the door, locking it from the outside. It was something he and the queen had decided was needed when Brian was younger and would constantly venture out late at night, alone. The king hoped it was enough to keep him safe this time.

Drawing his sword from the sheath, the king hurried back down the hall, hoping the destruction that had already ensued wasn't too progressed, that the Renegades hadn't been able to breach past the ballroom. But the closer he got the more he realized that his hopes fell on deaf ears. Renegades were making their way down the corridor toward him, swords and daggers at the ready. The king, being far more skilled in swordsmanship, made quick work of the first two that approached, sliding the blade of his sword across their throats, their bodies instantly falling to the ground. Swinging heavily against the attack of the third, he was able to knock the sword out of the Renegade's hand, quickly gutting him. He, too, fell.

When the fourth and fifth approached at the same time, the king felt a little uneasy; they proved to be better opponents and though he had seriously injured one to the point of incapacitation, the next swung his sword out quickly, tearing through the flesh of the king's arm. Roaring out in pain, the king thrust his sword through his opponent's neck. In seconds, the headless body collapsed to the floor, its head rolling a few feet away.

Sword still in hand, the king used his free one to press against his wound to stifle the flow of blood, and continued down the hall.

As he passed by the throne room, a movement caught his eye. The king slowed as he looked in, relief flooding through him as he saw the figure of his brother inside.

"Bartholomew," he called out as he entered, causing his brother to turn to him. The king didn't notice the dark glint in his eyes. "The Renegades have laid siege to the castle. You must help us fight them off. We must save the kingdom," the king said through hard pants, as his running and sword work had taken quite a bit out of him.

When Bartholomew gave ho reply, the king knew that something was wrong. Brow furrowed in confusion he took a few steps forward, moving so he was between his brother and the throne.

"Did you not hear me? We must hurry!" the king nearly shouted, pointing out the door with his sword. In a flash of movement Bartholomew had pulled out his dagger, closing the space between himself and the king as he held the rigid blade to his throat.

"Drop your sword," Bartholomew ordered. The king's eyes were wide and confused as he did what he was told. Slowly it was all piecing together for the king. His brother had been in on this. His brother had betrayed him.

"Why are you doing this?" the king quietly asked, easily seeing the rage in his brother's eyes. Bartholomew still didn't answer, but rather pushed the king down into his throne. With malice in his eyes and in his heart, he spoke his next words.

"Long live the King."

If possible the king's eyes widened even more in that split second. In one swift, clean stroke, Bartholomew buried his dagger into the king's stomach. His lips twisted into a sick smile as he heard his victim choking for air, and without hesitation he pulled his dagger out before gutting the king once more.

Watching his brother as the last few moments of his life faded away, Bartholomew felt no remorse in his heart.

And without looking back, he left the king to die.