Tale of Four

"How dare he?" Elias’s fists curled into fists. Slamming it on the table, he let his anger erupt, the fiery wings spreading with it. "The north." Elias looked to Lord Deacon. "How dare he?" Lord Deacon shook his head and sighed.

"The north has always been dismissive of the politics beyond its land. They do not understand our customs. You must understand, your Highness, north of The Divide is a vastly different land. They do not live by the same rules as we. Even their laws are harsher."

"The Chancellor speaks true." Ser Halls spoke up, "I won’t excuse Lord Raven’s action, but to him, they were justifiable. His voice is free to travel to any lord within the Deadland as they see fit and carry out any action so long as Lord Raven allows it." His words didn’t have the effect he wanted. Elias’s head snapped towards him, and pushing himself away from the table, he stared deep into the northern knight’s eyes.

"Who do you serve?" Elias asked, slowly walking towards the king’s guard, "You knew we had a trespasser, and rather than report him, rather than deal with it, you brought him before me, allowed him to insult me, and even now you protect him. You are sworn to your king, to my family, not Lord Raven." Elias continued to walk forward, the wings on his back growing, "Lord Raven has just committed numerous treasons, but he was not alone in it."

Ser Halls didn’t back down, continuing to hold eye contact, "I trusted his reasoning. The Ravens have protected the Deadlands from the horrors longer than any of us can understand. I failed, but I never committed treason." Elias scoffed, his fists curling and uncurling. Eventually, he shook his head.

"Get out. Go to my father’s side and don’t return to the palace. Report everything you have done, and do not lie to him. I can’t trust a northern knight any longer. Be glad I don’t strip you of your position. We have lost two King’s Guards to treason already. I will not embarrass the throne any further." Ser Halls took a deep breath and rested a hand on his chest. Bowing, he left the room, leaving it silent.

Elias closed his eyes and smirked. Pacing back and forth, he looked to Tristan. "You." Stepping towards him, Tristan met his cold glare. "You said we had an intruder. You claim to see all these things we can’t." His tone was strange, mocking Tristan, "And yet you failed to warn me that it was like this."

"You can’t be serious," Tristan said in disbelief. Staring into Elias’ hateful, disgusted gaze, he quickly realised he was and laughed. "I warned you. I said they had a northern feel. I said they had a power around them that was ancient. You said the north doesn’t involve itself with southern politics."

"Oh," Elias said with fake amazement, "You did. And yet you failed to say it was Lord Raven himself or whatever disgusting abomination he created, at least. So it’s my fault." Looking at his pure white eyes, Elias scoffed, "Able to see everything. What a joke. You’re good at one thing, and you failed." Tristan could feel Annabell’s rage in his mind, rage at being treated so unfairly. He tried to suppress her thoughts, but it was too late.

"And what about you?" The words were both his and Annabell’s, their voices overlapping. It was strange to all who heard his deep voice and Annabell’s young girl’s childish voice that echoed. Tristan regretted instantly that it slipped out, but he understood why it did. His body would not permit him to hold in the truth Elias needed to hear, even at the risk of himself. Annabell immediately apologised to him in his mind, blaming her anger for it.

The room went silent, a pin drop able to be heard. Even Elias ’ wings seemed to come to a still, unable to believe that someone would openly challenge it. Tristan could see Mabel looking at him in shock out of the corner of his eye and Lord Deacon’s silent gaze. Elias’s lips curled as he giggled under his breath. Running a hand through his hair, the disgust in his eyes that he usually looked at Tristan with morphed.

Before, it was disgust for what he represented, disgust at the fake humility he protected himself behind, but now it was hatred mixed with indifference. A hatred born from being challenged, for not falling to his knees instantly and begging for forgiveness as he should have. That would have been normal to Tristan, but the indifference was there, and it terrified him. It wasn’t the indifference of a person seeing someone they disliked, but the indifference of looking at an animal.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" His tone changed. A deep voice, almost like a growl, escaped his lips. Mabel stepped forward and went to speak, but Elais turned to her and lifted a finger, demanding no interruption. Looking back at Tristan, he chuckled, "You judge me. I am your crown prince. I am your future king. And you, a fucking orphan who hid his whole life, question me." Elias stepped forward. The flames around him changed, climbing up his body, spreading across his cheeks. The wings grew, and under each step, smoke rose. "What do you understand about me? What do you understand about ruling or warfare? Nothing, and you judge me."

Tristan tried to breathe but failed, the air burning in his lungs before he could. Annabell’s power washed over him, trying to protect him, but it was useless. Begging her to deepen the merge to protect him, Annabell protested, promising to do so if his life was critically in danger. Grabbing the table, his legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed, the heat sapping the strength in his body, the wings spreading from Elias’ back, proud and majestic, demanding that he kneel one way or another.

Elias took a final step toward him, stopping an arm’s length away. Looking down at him, his face twisted in contempt, "Tell me, what is it you dare judge about me, when you can do nothing?" Elias paused, "No one would care if you died this instant. You provide nothing to this realm; your pitiful existence is meaningless. You are nothing."

Tristan rubbed his throat, feeling as if his insides were burning from within. Tears escaped his eyes, only to burn up and turn to steam in an instant. Clutching the table, he fell lower, taking large, empty breaths, each dry and painful. Yet he never broke eye contact with Elias, staring at him with anger he never knew he could feel.

"This..." Saying that alone took everything he had, yet he carried on, forcing himself to speak, "All... of.." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible, yet Elias heard every word, "your... fault..." It was Annabell’s voice that spoke next, "Kinslayer." The childish voice was heard by everyone, and once again, the room fell silent. Lord Deacon took a deep breath, hearing the unspeakable said out loud, to the Prince no less. Mabel stared at Tristan, wondering if he was suicidal or stupid and forced herself to move, even with the heat finally beginning to affect her, Elias slowly losing control of who it affected.

"Brother." Grabbing his arm, she desperately tried to pull his attention away from Tristan, "Ignore him. He is stupid." Looking at Tristan, she begged with her eyes for him to leave. Tristan would have loved to, but couldn’t move, the strength in his body long gone. "Elias, please, he isn’t our enemy. Imprison him, send him to battle, but don’t do this, please, please, please." She didn’t beg for Tristan, but Elias himself, terrified of what another sin could add to him.

Elias finally moved and turned to Mabel. "Get off me." His voice was cold, lacking any of the usual warmth he usually had for her. Mabel stepped back, her hand shaking. Gulping, she rubbed her mouth and looked away, but quickly turned back.

"Eli-" His sharp eyes cut the word off. Looking back at Tristan, his face changed again.

"My fault. Kinslayer." Elias’ lips curled in a fake smile. "Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer." Repeating himself, he sighed, running a hand through his hair again, pushing his head back to look at the ceiling. "No matter where I am, I can’t escape this label. I hear the whispers, the thoughts men have when they see me." His hand fell, holding just next to his temple as it shook. "Everyone believes I caused this war; I am the reason." Elias shook his head. "How many have died in an accident? How many fell too hard during a joust and never rose again? How many have been trampled by their own horse? How many have been hit too hard and made retarded." Elias said with venom.

Looking down at Tristan, he shook his head. "Many have died before Cillian in jousts, and many will die after him. We all know the risk when saddling our horses, and we all accept these things can happen, yet not once did it cause a rebellion until now." Elias stepped closer to Tristan, breaking the gap between them. Resting a hand on his head, Tristan felt the heat through his palm that felt as if it was searing his skin. Trying to scream, it died in his throat; the sound burned away. "That snake couldn’t accept his son’s death. He tears my dynasty apart because he finally saw his chance to get power. He uses his son as an excuse to kill his family, and it is my fault. It was an accident, and from it he caused a war."

Elias moved his hand away from Tristan, finally freeing him. Reaching up with what little strength he had, he touched where the hand was and sighed in relief, realising that nothing had truly been burnt. "All will judge me," Elias growled, "What right do they have?" The sentence sounded different to the rest, offended at the belief people did, "Kinslayer. I am their Prince."

Tristan grabbed his throat again. His mouth opened, unable to contain the question he desperately wanted to know the answer to. "Are... you..." It was a battle to ask it, "even... sorry?" Elias looked at Tristan and scoffed.

"Of course I am, but he’s dead. Does it matter anymore?" The answer was so cold that Tristan couldn’t believe what he heard. Had he not been merged, he would have assumed Elias was lying, his voice showing no emotion that showed any remorse. But he could tell. Elias was sorry but didn’t care. The death didn’t faze him; it fueled his hatred for Brandon.

"Ha." All he could muster was a half laugh. There was nothing more to say. Before Elias, there was no negotiating, no trying to get him to see his errors. That gaze he was being looked at told him everything. Why would he ever consider the advice of an animal? He would entertain it, but never value it. There was no room to try to show his errors, because Elias didn’t believe he had any.

’A monster.’ Tristan said in his mind, staring at Elias as he retracted the flames into his body.

"We’re done here. Lord Deacon, ensure the northern presence in this court is dealt with." Lord Deacon lifted his old, shaking hand and placed it on his chest. Pretending to have seen nothing that had just occurred, he lowered his head and bowed.

"Of course."

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