The Beginning of Something

There are just a few lonely oil lamps hanging on the mottled walls of the dark hallway, casting their eerie shade of gray shadows against the stone, making it appear and feel even darker than it actually is. The sound of large water droplets echoes through the thick, damp air. The rocky floor is cold, wet, and uneven yet oddly soothing to Albion’s aching bare feet each time he takes a step. The guard behind him pokes his shirtless back with the top of his rifle. Albion hurries along, tripping while trying to keep his balance with his hands bound behind his back.

The convicted man can hear everything before he sees it. The clopping of horse hooves on the cobblestone streets as they drag carriages on their backs fails to drown out the loud chatter of the gathering audience as he exits the hall.

“Move!” The guard pushes the man through the commotion. He needlessly kicks the back of his leg, causing him to drop to his naked knees in front of her majesty, Queen Klodah.

~12 Hours Prior~

“I did this, you understand?” Albion tried to drill the words into his brother’s head, hoping it would bring him some sort of peace.

“But it was me.” Roy chokes up behind sobs. “It was me!”

“Shut up and listen to me! I will not let you die, Roy. Not now. You have a family that needs you. So stop fighting this and let me go.”

“Al-”

“Let me go, brother.”

~Present~

“Ser Albion Blaine.” Queen Klodah’s voice is deep and coarse like broken pieces of rocks grinding against each other. It does well to compliment her somewhat of a brick complexion. Her eyes settle on the now calm crowd and she folds her arms.

“I liked you,” she goes on. “Maybe I didn't see you as a son or anything, but I did like you. I trusted you. My own son even looked up to you. I just need to know why, Albion. I need to understand, after all we’ve done for you, why you would feel the need to take my child’s father from him and to take my husband away from me. I need to know.”

“Speak,” the sentry whispers to the kneeling man.

“M- I killed King Aadolf. I did what I did for my own personal reasons and I would do it a thousand times again.”

“Have you no remorse?! What is wrong with you?!” Prince Yeriel rests his hand on his mother’s shoulder in his attempt to calm her down only to be swatted away as the woman stands. “Give me.” She reaches her hand out to the guard behind her. He immediately hands over his pistol.

“No,” the Queen says, “a dagger.”

In the front of the crowd, Roy Blaine stands frozen in denial. He isn’t sure how to feel or how not to feel. If he should react, or do nothing at all. He can’t help but ask himself why. Why it had to be Albion and not him. Why he felt so guilty for what was about to happen to his baby brother. But none of that matters, it’s all coming to an end now.

Roy collapses at his brother’s first scream as Klodah plunges her weapon into the young man’s middle. He can almost feel the pain as if it were his own body being torn into, or at least he thinks he can. By the second shout, Roy is holding his chest, feeling like he’d just been punched in it hard enough to knock out all his air. His eyes swell and tears pour freely. The only thing he can hear is his brother’s flesh being stabbed over and over under the grunts of the Queen.

The man helplessly drags himself to the corpse in its pool of blood after Klodah is pulled away by her men. The face of the body is lacerated in every possible area and Roy doubles over in an indescribable pain. No sympathy is given to the older brother. Instead the audience decreases by the second and eventually the man is left with a mess that is in fact his own.