“A good story cannot be devised; it has to be distilled” -Raymond Chandler
All stories start simple, tales of girls who trick boys, and vice versa. Tales of life, and tales of death, some even tales of great fights.
I’m sure you’ve come up with a little image for each of those stories, one image that explains the climax in your mind. For what is a story without a climax, what is a story without a background.
Nothing but a canvas of wonder.
Treacherous for some, calming, and plentiful for others. Let me tell you a simply complex story of life, of love, and death. Let me tell you a story of fate.
The sky was grey and black with heavy rain clouds. Thunder tore through the air in angry echos, feet, beat against the mud with a steady pattern. Swords, and shields of metal, clang in the air and ring with beautiful death. The grunts of pain, and shouts of anger or betrayal, encourage the storm, demanding the sky cry over the rivers of spilt blood. Blood soaked grounds are diluted with that rain, leaving crimson streaks down the hill. The men on one side thin and weaken, overwhelmed in a wave of muscle. Everyone blinded by the hard rain, leave the air tense. Who has fallen, and who is left, no one knows.
Watching closely, a woman of poise and dignity, with long brown hair, and sharp eyes. Her features emotionless and rough, far different from any princess before her. But, no princess before her had dared to do what she’d done.
Her head held high, and on her horse of Black Death she sat tall. Through the rain, she tried hard to keep track of one man. The top warrior of her kingdom, the father of her unborn child. A partner of a forbidden love, for he was no noble, her father could never accept. He cut his way through the battle field, face soaked in sticky blood, his muscles moved in an intricate dance. Waving his weapon like a ribbon of destruction, memory bonds, and life debts kept many men loyal to him. More than the princesses father had imagined, but her father was no coward and he would want to die well.
True to the king he always was, he himself rode into battle. His horse brown like wet earth, both packed with heavy battle armour. He looked formidable, wielding the sword of kings, but every king falls. For every king, is nothing but a man, and this one. Threatens her family, threatens everything she loves, and that simply cannot be.
The king goes into a rage, cuts down many men in a path to her beloved. She was a warrior, much to her fathers dismay it was branded into her soul from before birth. It was her destiny, digging her heels into her steeds sides she was off. Charging through the men, and trampling those too slow. She emerged just as they met in the middle, pushing them back with the threatening kicks of her horse.
She slides down carefully, firmly gripping her cold sword, sending the steed off into the crowd. She watched the forming circle around them, “it’s over.” She spoke, her voice booming through the hillside.
“You’re wrong, daughter. You may have gotten my men to betray me, gotten that simple solider to help you kill me.” He came closer, but not close enough so she could easily stab him with her dagger. “What’s to stop him from killing you next?”
The princess scoffed, pulling her dagger from its sheath, and rubbing her belly. “He loves me, and I am with child, not all men are dogs like you.” She spat as the blade twirled between her fingers, he just laughed as she made calculated steps towards him.
6 steps, 5 steps, 4 steps away. “I will not fight you child, you may not believe me but. A dog recognizes another dog.” A grunt of pain carried through the circle, blood pooled around her hand, and the kings knees fell weak. The deed was done, the girl, once a princess. Was now queen, and like it was always fated her beloved would be king.
She turned in joyful sorrow, motioning for the warriors to finish off the wounded and pack up. As she moved she found it strange, no one had taken a step. She looked up, and through the rain, raising her shield above her head for visibility. Her partner stood blood soaked, the tip of his sword lightly dug into the ground. He leaned on it for support as he watched her, the rain making it hard to read his eyes. She hurried over, only the wet tap of her foot steps and the heavy pattern of rain was heard.
“My love, what’s happened, are you hurt?” The queen reached out with careful hands, then everything moved too quick. The unexpected hit, as if she was trampled by a shield wall. Pain didn’t come until after, her mouth just open in shock. She felt it before she saw it, the shield quickly fell from her hand as they explored her stomach. Touching on a cool, slick metal. Looking down at the sight of betrayal, the pain came from her heart. Everything she thought was wrong, as proven by the sword through her stomach. Looking up into the eyes of her lover, her partner. He ripped the sword free and sent her crashing to her knees, tears spill from the corners of her eyes. What a cruel trick the gods had played.
Her tears weren’t sad, they were angry, and vengeful. For she couldn’t protect the life of her child, she allowed herself to be fooled by this man. She was fooled into killing her own father, only to be betrayed by the one who drove her to do it.
She felt her last few breaths, counted them. She held her stomach, in hopes to comfort her dying baby. The least she could do, putting him in such danger. Just as her eyes fell shut, the voice of her dreams, and the face that now haunted her appeared one last time.
“I never loved you, you royal whores are all the same.” As it has been told, her beloved moved on to become king.
As it was always fated.