“Uneasy Lies the Head”

My dear one is alive in my arms. He is so precious to me.

And then her dear one was dead. She cradled him as he sighed his last breath and his body went heavy in her lap. She had made him close his eyes, choosing to remember his face as in sleep rather than watching the light dim behind them.

My dear one is so precious to me.

She had wept earlier. Now she knelt in the maw of an empty fireplace, huddled in shadow while rebels tore the palace apart. The Guard had been unable to hold them; unable but likelier unwilling, for the numbers had been in her favour and none of this should have been happening.

Her dear one had made mistakes, trusted the wrong men, relied on self-serving counsel disguised as good advice, but the first years of his reign had been glorious. The wars had weakened him by strengthening the enemies within, and somewhere along the way, his son had been turned against him. Through the castle walls, she heard the mob roaring his name, calling for justice from the unjust who would rule in his stead. A handsome puppet prince, the royal fool whose youth made him vulnerable to the machinations of avaricious men. She could not save her son. He had made his choice and would be surprised when his father’s fate befell him in turn, for lords who toppled one king would find it easier to topple a second.

The chaos in the corridor sounded nearer. She held her beloved in sheltering arms and waited for her moment.

Soon, my dear one. Wait for me, my love.

The door was unlocked but kicked in for effect. She tensed in her hiding place, grateful for the darkness that befuddled their sight. Torches blazed too loudly in the small stone chamber; she glimpsed a familiar silhouette before he glimpsed her, and by then it was too late.

The prince found her in the fireplace, spending her last breath in a tender kiss to her dear one’s lips.