The Battlefield

What have I done? My agonized screams roll unhindered across this snow-covered flat-land. A single tear rolls down my cheek, turning crimson as it passes through the blood that is caked on the left side of my face. A small trail is all that the tear leaves behind as it drops to the snow at my feet, turned a dark pink from the blook that has spilled for countless hours on this small part of the Nameless Plains.

I feel my knees hit the cold snow, but I cannot look down. My eyes are held by the masses of bodies that litter the plains that had been barren when I had first laid my eyes on them. Some of them were my allies, friends and men under my command. Some of them were my enemies. Now, I see soldiers and horses that fought until their blood ran in rivers over the snow. Now, there is only the blood and death and the birds in the sky, floating down to feast on exposed flesh. Now, I only see the steel that had clashed against steel for what seemed like and eternity. I see an army of men that I failed.

I close my eyes and let myself fall. The snow bites so coldly, like hungry rats nibbling on a cracker, but I don’t feel. I open my eyes and turn my head out of the snow to breathe, but I can see things now, and tears well in my eyes, eventually spilling over my eyelids.

King Ekren, the man who made me who I was. His body is lying not three feet from my own, his eyes open and staring at me. Is he alive? The contempt and fire in his blue-green eyes tells me his heart still beats. So, I am not alone in this land of corpses.
My eyes stray to the spear in his chest. No, I am not alone in this graveyard, but I will be soon. I look back up into his blazing blue-green eyes, a grieving wail escaping my lips. I’m sure that’s probably the saddest thing Ekren’s ever heard come out of my throat.
Ekren’s eyes soften for a moment, and he reaches out to my, his hand gloved in the finest leather. The middle finger is nearly bare, most of the leather torn away. Blood flows freely from where the skin has been torn brutally away on the top of the finger. His lips from one word, though he has no voice to match is.

“Kira,” He breathes, but that is all I need. I reach for his hand, but he’s too far. My longest finger barely brushes his when the fire in his eyes winks out. He’s gone.

“Ekren.” I whisper, my voice foreign to my ears and barely audible. I can’t believe he’s gone. “Ekren!”

I scream his name, over and over, the name of not just my king, but also my husbend, the man who took me, a nobody, and made me a queen.

All the gods above, please, why did i have to be someone important? Why couldn’t I have stayed a simple serving girl to the local lord and lady? If I had stayed a nobody, I would not have let down a whole army, a whole nation. All of these people had looked to me for courage, for strength, and I failed them when they needed me most. Now, they are all dead, my dear Ekren among them.

The tears cease as the hours pass and the wind over the plains dries them on my face. the blood has dried, too, but it is uncomfortable and itchy. I’m starting to drift away from this place, this cold, this pain, and I’m starting to remember. . . . . .





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