14 Relief and Sorrow

Death was never kind.

It snatched where it could; taking people who were far too young, far too good. It didn't pretend to care, it didn't pretend to distinguish.

Many said that when you die, you will meet a black robed skeleton holding a scythe. Some said you get to ascend to the Islands of the Blessed to meet the Eternal Gods. Some say that you are reincarnated while some say you sleep, staring out into the void for eternity.

Allyria wasn't sure which one was true but maybe she'll find out now.

Despite the excruciating pain she was feeling, she attempted to stand once more, her body heavy than it shouldn't have been. She didn't want to give up easily without a fight. No. The rebel isn't that special enough to be given the pleasure.

Her legs wobbled as she was finally on her feet. She balled her fist, staring at the man in front of her intently.

It's actually funny to think of.

Back when they were still kids, she always thought no one would ever have the reason to hate the King and Queen. They were easily loved dearly by their countrymen as soon as they took position. It was written all over. In textbooks, history books, any paper you can smudge an ink on.

But she couldn't understand any of this. Why all the hate? Why reach this point in their lives? Why?

All these questions and she doesn't even have any answer. She could only wait for death to knock and finally greet her.

But instead of feeling the sword pierce her chest, a loud clang of steel reverberated.

Her hands went to her mouth, eyes widened.

The sword that was supposed to stab her heart drove into the body of her Royal Guard instead.

"No!" she protested, hoping words would undo the injustice.

Frozen, she looked at the face of the man standing in front of her, limping, his eyes showing pride but never pain knowing he has fulfilled his duty and has kept the princess safe until his dying breath.

His body fell to the ground, the warmth of life stolen away by death's cold embrace. Allyria sprinted over, ignoring the fatigue in her swaying legs from the ongoing battle, praying that it was all just a bad dream. That none of those lives were stolen by the ill gods.

He coughed blood, lying on the floor. His soft lips stretched into a smile but didn't quite reach his dark eyes. They were lit with sadness that he tried so hard to cover. They were almost eye-to-eye, "You need to go."

Allyria shook her head, "No..."

"Please princess, leave while you still can," he begged, his hands holding the blade on his body.

She placed his head on her lap, "I'm sorry," she repeated over and over. The feeling was heavy, suffocating. All she wanted at that moment was to take her own life and trade it with his – so many deaths, so many casualties. Unable to fight back the grief, a tear fell from her eyes, "I'm so sorry."

The Royal Guard shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

Allyria examined the face of the Royal Guard who shielded her from the attack, his face in anguish with the pain. It was supposed to be her.

"It's not your fault, princess," he replied, the corners of his mouth turned up weakly. She didn't even know his name, never bothered to ask about their lives. She had no idea.

They were not just guards. They were also sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers. And she took it from them.

"Please," he begged again as if she never heard him from the first time. "You need to go."

She didn't move. Everything around her suddenly became a blur.

"I told you to surrender," the rebel spat, slowly walking towards her, "You could have spared the lives of these people." He erupted in a vicious laughter, taking the time to amble towards her. The sound of it awakened the inferno inside of her. Allyria wanted to burn him right there and now until there would be nothing left of him but dust.

But before he could reach her, Kaius pulled her up, "We need to go."

"But these men!" she exclaimed.

"We're outnumbered. We can't defeat them," he said and tried to pull her from the blood-soaked crowd.

She laid the body of her royal guard gently on the ground and took a good look at his nameplate before the prince was finally able to drag her away from them.

Lockehart.

Kaius and Allyria both staggered to get to the horse. They were all bruised but Kaius had it worst. Still, he placed her arms around his shoulders and supported half of her limping body.

"Hurry!" the Cesparian Royal Guard shouted.

They doubled their speed, treading to get to safety. She could still hear the men fighting behind her. She didn't want to leave but they didn't have any choice.

"We will hold the rebels. Don't stop moving until you reach the castle," he instructed, his hand already on the side of his pocket waiting to unsheathe his sword.

"Quickly," Kaius said as soon as they reached the horse and helped her get on. He followed.

"Safe travels, Your Grace," the Royal Guard gave him a salute for one last time.

He nodded, doing the same. "Your services will be honored."

Kaius picked up the reins and gave the horse some slack. "Let's go, fellow," he called, and the horse started up with a will.

With a heavy heart, Allyria squeezed her eyes shut and tried her hardest not to turn around when she heard a loud crash of metal.

'They will all be remembered.'