Oathkeeper

The air was crisp. As if soft cold wafers found solace on his skin whilst he peered at the dead white blotched with red.

I fought hard, he thought. With the blade in between his fingers, he took a deep inhale, and then allowed the phantom wisps wanting freedom from his body to flood out.

Layers of furs provided warmth, but slithering throughout his body was a pulsating shiver. One that beckoned more discomfort with every thump of his heart.

Behind him, two guards held down a man. A man three years his senior. A man who was seen as such by the people. A man he has known for his entire life. A man who he made a vow to and received one in return.

"Foolish boy, they will call me," he said. "A foolish boy who put his trust and faith in his childhood friend."

He turned around and looked at the man. Unique hair, quite like his own. Eyes, quite like his own. Despite their similar features, they aren't connected by blood. They're connected by choice. By experience. By word.

"Tell me," he said as he began to walk towards the man. "Do you remember my oath to you?"

The man, looking back, gave a curt nod.

"Word for word?" Another nod.

"Then please, recite it."

"If you became King of the Winterlands, you'd fight. You'd fight until you had nothing left," the man swallowed. "You'd fight until you had nothing to give up to the people."

"And what price would I pay for breaking that oath," he asked.

"Your life," the man answered as the distance between them stopped narrowing.

"You swore to me as well, didn't you," he pressed. "Speak." he told the man before he could nod.

"Yes."

"You swore that if I became King of the Winterlands, you'd fight with me. Fight until you had nothing left to give to the people. To be my most loyal subject. To never scheme against me. To never lie to me. To never betray me. Isn't that right," he asked.

"Yes."

"And what was the price for breaking that oath," the blade twiddling between his fingers.

"My life."

"And yet..." he nodded to the guards who let the man go. "You betrayed not only your people, not only your fellow Wintermen, not only your liege, but your childhood friend. A person you swore an oath to. Right here. Six years ago."

Emotions swirled within those eyes looking up at him. He couldn't place them all, but resignation was one of them.

"That was the day you brought me this black blade," he held it up between their faces. "Adorned with a simple bold ruby on its hilt."

The blade was lowered and the hilt was pressed to the man's chest.

"The blade with your namesake, in which you told me would have your life too, if you betrayed me," his grip on the blade tightened as those words left his mouth.

"That I did..." the acceptance of his deeds laced in the words.

"I made the sacrifices to fight. I've done away with ally and enemy alike, for the sake of the people—but I kept you," he stared the man down.

"My family, my love, my morals, my virtues, out of them all, I kept you."

"And now you're to get rid of me too." the man said.

"Or perhaps you wish to have Darkness plunged into your heart, where it belongs," he retorted, swiftly placing the tip of the blade on the man's chest before pulling it away. "I won't ask you why you betrayed me, I'll simply allow you to get what you deserve."

Backing up, he called for the guards.

"Keep him down, and hold his head up. I don't want any struggling," he ordered, quickly receiving what he asked for.

"Out of all the things I have done, I wouldn't have thought I'd have to sacrifice you," he's not sure when, but tears began to stream down his eyes, his grip still strong. "A vow is a vow."

"I guess this is how I'm going out, huh," the man laughed dryly, eye contact unwavering. "You really do make a strong King."

"Indeed," he replied somberly.

With a swift swipe, the kneeling man's face littered with drops of red and shock.

The young king fought the urge to grasp his throat as he watched the horror on his childhood friend's face. He couldn't feel the warmth of his furs any longer. The shiver no long slithered pulsatingly as he fell to his knees.

He could've sworn he heard the man call out to him with all of those phantom wisps pooling out, but he couldn't make it out.

All he could see is a red river overtaking the dead white whilst on his body solace was found by soft cold wafers in the crispy air.

A.N:

It feels good to write again. Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review. I'd greatly appreciate it.

–Lucio