Remnants of a Writer’s Block: Part I
Ursula
Failure. It's hard to accept. Ursula's burning eyes and clenched teeth said the same. The plated sword went straight through her chest, blood splattered on her armour. There she sits, knees on the snowing ground. Unable to see how this could have happened. How senseless? Did they ever stand a chance?
Hundreds lay behind her. Dead. As cold as ice beneath their rotten corpses. Yet, she stays up. She could never accept failure. Now, she puts up a fight against death. Why, sister, why? Just die. Die.
Herman laughed a laugh louder than the howling winds. The winds smelled of death, of defeat. A feud that lasted his whole life, and it ends without him having moved a finger. He only wished if he could be closer. Staring right into her eyes as darkness carries her away for one last time. Holding her by the sides of her gentle neck, whispering how arrogant she always was. Never grasping when to stop trying. Never knowing when to accept defeat. His stupid little sister.
Ursula stood again, proving Herman right. She didn't know how to stop. One might call it brave. Or perhaps, courage. Fools. Teaching their children virtues they never kept themselves. But Ursula was too naive to understand. And Herman too wise. He knew how the world worked. Knew when to turn around and grab the sword before getting stabbed from behind. He knew when to run and when to stay. But not his little sister.
And time has left them both at their righteous positions. One on the icy ground, putting up their final fight. And one on the balcony of their citadel, waiting for the other to fall down to their death. Their eyes met for one brief second before another arrow pierced right through her shoulder. Herman could hear her scream in anguish, but he wasn't sure. A battle cry, it seemed to be. But with none to follow. A single young girl against the greatest army in the West. It was only a matter of time.
If Ursula had a bow and an arrow, she would have used her last breath to send Herman plummeting down into the snow. He knew it too. Why else would he stand behind his two best guards? Fear, some call it. Or cowardness. But Herman knew better. It was wisdom. It was what a true King would do.
Another arrow pierces her left shoulder. This time, it sends her back to her knees. Kneeling. There was only one way this could end. And it was about time.
Descent
Blood isn't red. It's more of a crimson. Darker. And denser.
Blood isn't warm. It's cold. Almost frozen, that it sends a chill down your spine.
Blood isn't like water. It's thicker. Sticks to your skin like paint. Hard to remove once stuck.
Or perhaps, it's the royalty. Maybe, the starving children out in the streets have blood bright red. Maybe, the fragile slaves in the newest forts have blood with warmth. Maybe, the young women in the royal halls have blood like water. But not the blood of the king. His blood is cold. His blood is thick. His blood is crimson-- nearly purple. At least, that's how Naziya feels against her face.
She shoves the rotten corpse down from the dusty throne. As it rolls down the stairs, nearly detached, Naziya can see the purple stain it leaves behind. Of course, the rugs will have to be changed. So should the lights. And the tables. And Norvamyne. And it will. It has to.
Naziya never expected her to be the one to sever his throat in the end. With what time had left her, she no less than deserved it. And now, she has completed her purpose. Her destiny. Her wish. Her dream. Her life. A faint smile creeps its way down her little cheeks.
She has never felt this emotion in a while. The last time she did, she lost the only person who could have saved her. Or, in fact, saved the king from what was to come. He should never have killed the one she loved. He should never have hurt Naziya. Not again.
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And there it is. A bit of fantasy, I know. For a while in between all this mess, I have to admit that I was kind of captured by the thought of being able to create an entirely new world right from our desks. I mean, creating new characters is something I love to do, but a different realm-- that's a whole another level! And I know I posted this about a day late, but what can I say? Life happens (: I hope something about the two short tales that never made it to the end will inspire your creative self to do something marvellous. Keep writing! Keep loving! And stay happy! Lots of love <3