Welcome back to another Wednesday Brief. A different brief for a different day, this one oriented toward medieval fantasy.
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Aithian sat atop his throne, waiting. Soon, she would arrive and then, all hell would break lose. He gripped the sides of his chair, the worn down stone hardly made an indentation on his flesh. Not for the first time since he’d seen her, he wished he could grip his sword. He glanced toward the door on the far left. The doctors had advised him against it. His teeth ground against each other, the sound loud in his ears.
Everything had gone wrong the moment she walked into his life. She had been little more than another prize thrown into the bargain when he´d won over the castle. He would have been more than content to fuck her and kill her, but his friend and advisor, Jauel, had discovered that she was important. She had more lands and riches than her late husband. If he married her, he would possess all that and more. His people would be fed and clothed and prepared for the next battle.
She had accepted her fate with resignation and indifference. They had stood before the priest who had sanctified their matrimony and he´d taken her up to the royal bedroom to mark her as his. He still remembered her scent and taste. She´d been sweet as honey. He grinned. It had taken some coaxing but her passion eventually rivaled his.
For a while, all was well in the castle. Then, her brothers had come. Aithian frowned. His knuckles turned white against the dark chair. They´d foolishly attempted to storm the castle and take her away. That´s when he discovered her duplicity. He´d captured her family and killed them in front of her, one by one. He had Jauel hold her as he ran each of the men she loved through with his sword. Their blood splattered on her gown and her face but not once did she cry.
Aithian sighed. He´d heard her sobs later, on his way to their bedroom. He decided to give her a boon that night. No one could say he was ungentle. Yet, the Gods did not repay his kindness, instead they punished him. His right arm, his fighting arm, slowly started to lose strength. He was hardly able to grip his sword and lift it. She was there with him every step of the way. He swallowed. He had thought they had something special, that they had an understanding. Except, last night, he´d seen her slip something into the glass of water she offered him. The argument that ensued had sent her running.
The doors opened with a loud clang and a cool breeze swept through the hall. Aithian sat up straight. Guards, escorted her inside and harshly shoved her to the floor in front of him. She fell to her knees without a sound of protest.
“Look at me.”
As she did his heart beat increased its tattoo. Her brown eyes bore into his. There was no contempt, no anger, simply indescribable sadness. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. His chest hurt. The deep seated pain one he´d never felt before. He pushed the emotions away.
“Where were you?”
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