HATRED
1554 Words
Princess Elande had been impatiently sitting on her dying father’s bed-foot for a week now. But the old prick refused to finally go. Stubbornly clutching at the last breaths of life that he had left, and annoyingly delaying her rightful ascent to the throne.
She was more than tired of pretending to graciously wait for her turn to reign. At the pace that he was going, the man seemed to be practically immortal.
He'd already outlived two wives and four sons, he'd survived a plague and an attempt to overthrow him a few years ago.
So, when he'd recently fallen sick, bedridden with a strange fever that had the realm's medics clueless and bracing for the worst, the middle-aged princess had allowed her mind to harbor some optimistic expectations for her immediate future at last.
Elande was not getting any younger herself, and she'd already missed out on so many things throughout her life, that she was not willing to let this precious chance slip away and postpone her plans once more.
She had endured enough disillusion since her early years, to tolerate being relegated yet again. No! This time there would be no contemplation, this time she would step on as many toes as she would have to, if that meant that she would get what she wanted in the end.
Too many years had passed since she'd first tried to avenge her injured pride and failed.
After her initial defeat, her brothers and father had cowardly insisted on shoving some common sense down her throat and persuaded her to let things be. She'd reluctantly taken their advice at the time, knowing that she had no more options anyway.
But now, times had favorably changed. There were no more scaredy brothers left to deter her from seeking her vengeance. And soon, the only person standing in her way would be gone too… Even if she had to give him a little push to make that happen.
This power couldn't have arrived at a better moment either. As she had learned a year prior, that the insolent piece of garbage that had dared to reject her all those years ago had recklessly managed to breed, not only once, but twice… And that now his damn progeny had also unjustly thrived: One sitting on the throne of Lowland’s gate and the other waiting at Yahur´s very line of succession.
That was simply outrageous! And there was no way in the world that she would allow it to fly. It should have been her, the one ruling the southern lands. Not a filthy illegitimate child! Not the result of the grave insult she’d suffered!
So, now that she had her chance, she was going to take it and make sure to erase those abominations from the face of the earth. She was going to reconquer what had been rightfully destined for her, and then she would get rid of that pathetic excuse for a human being for good!
She'd been denied marriage, she'd been refused power. But most importantly, she’d been deprived of love.
Forgotten and left to wilt. Bitter and helplessly alone, she'd fed the hatred inside her year after year, letting it build up. And now they were all going to regret having underestimated her wrath!
But first, she needed to clear the way.
-Father?... – She asked tentatively, her voice echoing around the vast chamber as she rose to her feet and slowly approached the bed with decided steps.
Her eyes stealing a furtive look around, making sure that no one was snooping.
She listened to the man’s ragged breath for a few more minutes, and once she was convinced that the monarch was indeed deeply unconscious, she gathered the courage to reach for one of the pillows that littered the enormous bed.
Clutching tightly to the fabric of the huge cushion, she summoned all her strength and, without a second thought, she lurched forward, forcefully pressing the heavy pad against her father's face.
No longer after, the muffled whimpers of the weakened, desperate man had reached her ears. Little did he know that it was already too late for him. As she had made up her mind days ago.
Fearing that he would end up making a miraculous recovery, but mostly just completely fed up with the long wait she'd endured for nature to carry its own course. Elande had decided that there was no harm in rushing things up a little on her own.
So, that night, in the silence of the deserted regal bedroom, she had ignored the old man's flailing limbs attempting to push her off him and catch a much-needed breath of air.
She had leaned patiently and mercilessly on his face, pinning him down with all her body weight, until the monarch's nails had stopped clawing helplessly at her arms and dropped lifeless to the mattress in defeat… Even then, she had kept pushing, until the quietness had slapped her on the face.
Noticing the sudden silence, and the immediate oppressive heaviness that now lingered around the place, the patricidal princess finally stood up, panting in exhaustion and removing the pillow blocking the limp man's airway.
Seeing her father's dead eyes staring blankly back at her, she drove her hand towards her mouth and covered it, suppressing a nauseated gag, the horror of what she'd just done soon shifting into a liberating sensation that invaded her like an electrifying discharge, shaking her body from head to toe.
Her heaving soon turning into a convulsive cackle, which she promptly contained and smothered behind her palms. Exhilarated tears rolling down her cheeks as she reached for the man’s eyelids and swiftly closed them, methodically rearranging the bedding, and making sure that he looked peaceful enough.
Once she was satisfied with the general appearance of the corpse, and convinced that the violent deed hadn't left any evident trail behind. She'd straightened her clothes and pulled her sleeves down, carefully covering the faint scratch-marks left on her forearms, before putting on a practiced grieving face and calling out for help with feigned distress.
Thankfully for her, the man had been so ill in the prior weeks that nobody had even considered the possibility of any foul play involved in the King’s death at all.
Everyone had simply presented their respectful condolences and agreed that the ruler had basically died of old age. The strange fever that had apparently led him to his demise was viewed as a mere ailment surely associated with aging at most.
His unfortunate passing was briefly mourned by the court and the council before he was laid to rest and the new Queen Elande was crowned without delay.
A full cycle had passed since her father's funeral and the Queen sat anxiously waiting for her informant to enter the hall.
The arrival of the newcomer had just been announced by the harbinger after returning from the spying mission she had sent him on the very night that she first sat on the throne.
Dirty and worn out from being on the road for an extended period, the experienced tracker finally crossed the high gateway and placed a knee on the cold floor, bowing to her.
-Greetings, Your Majesty! – He exclaimed loudly, gesturing politely at her – As per your instructions, I've traveled to Lowland's gate and back, and now I must inform you of my findings.
-What are you waiting for then, Anthos? – Elande urged him, waving her hand at him impatiently – Tell me, what is that w***e up to now?
-She has been summoned to Yahur – The explorer replied sternly – As we speak, she is already on her way there, along with her family.
The Queen scowled at the mention of the hated Order, her mood darkening momentarily before regaining her composure.
- Oh! What a dilemma! Shall we be going after her or after her realm? … Why not both? – She pondered with shiny eyes, scratching her chin and giggling– So, I get that the city must have been left unguarded then?
-It hasn't – The spy assured her, staring gravely at her – The town has been massively fortified, and its defenses are stronger than they have ever been. The Queen has left, but her full army stands in place.
-Then who’s she with? – The Queen inquired curiously, noticing the man's frightened demeanor – Hasn’t she taken some warriors with her to defend her?
-No, just one – Anthos muttered, shaking his head, and eyeing her cautiously – Her husband.
-What? Just one? And none other than her goddamn husband to make it worse! – Elande scoffed mockingly, eyeing him with amusement – Why would she risk making such a long journey unprotected? She must be more stupid than I’d originally thought!
-Because she doesn’t need it – The tracker responded, nodding firmly at her – ... Not when her husband is the former Yahurian Commander himself.
-Ugh! What a plague these people are! They just can't help but keep associating among pariahs like the filthy rats they are! – The Queen shrieked, her nose twitching in evident disgust, then sighing with decision – Well, someone better put an end to that loathsome stirp once and for all… Ready yourself, Anthos! You're marching north.
- Writer
