To think that even at the end of my life I'd have such feeble and pathetic regrets.
My king who I had sworn loyalty to, my comrades in arms, my friends, my country, I had everything, yet I had nothing, something I'd never get to have. Something that every person should have. A birthright. But was taking away from me. Robbed. A grown man like me who swore loyalty to the greatest king in existence is regretting his actions?
My body moved on its own when I took the blow for King Ran. He helped me, supported me, grew with me.
He's done so much for me… I don't regret stepping in the way for me, but this sinking feeling of sadness was welling up. Something I had suppressed for years was resurfacing.
I could only listen to the sounds of my comrades screaming as my body lost consciousness, it felt as though I was drowning in an empty void.
Is this death? I never imagined it would be so peaceful, as though giving you time to rethink your life. My time was however cut short as I was tugged. No pulled would be the right word. Pulled by an intense current with no destination.
"Congratulations Mrs. Arrington, he's a healthy baby boy." a voice unknown to me resounded through my ears, my eyelids were heavy, and barely any light seemed to enter through my eyes, but I was able to make out the distinct silhouette of each individual.
But that was before my body without my control burst out into a loud sobbing, seemingly that of a newborn baby.
"isn't he beautiful, Tristan" a calm doting voice called out before rough callused hands just barely grazed my face.
"He is indeed," the other said in agreement.
What the hell was going on!?