Daughter of Kings
by: ellyse the silent
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
She ran up the wide stone steps. She was normally graceful but now her skippered seamed to pound hard, like her heart.
Death… Death… Death! The word pounded and echoed in her mind.
"Breathe, just breathe," she whispered to herself.
She burst through the doors of the hall. Running as no lady should. She didn't notice anyone. There was no one in her mind but the man who lay beyond the thick wooden doors in front of her.
In one swift motion she opened the door, pausing for just a moment. Then she grabbed her skirts and ran the last few feet to the bed, maybe if she got there quick enough he wouldn't die!
Her legs gave way, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed. She leaned closer to him. Whispering his name…
He turned his face towards her, his eye lashes flickered but did not open. Blood was crusted on his cheek.
A hand caught her shoulder; she hadn't seen her brother by the bed. He pulled her back and motioned to the man's chest.
She gasped as she pulled the bloody covering down. Then her mouth went into a strait line. It was bad… no horrible. Even with her limited knowledge of healing she somehow know he would not recover.
Death… Death… Death! The word pounded again in her mind.
She looked her brother in the eyes; even in the dim light she could see she had been right. He would not survive.
"Please tell me he will live," She begged her brother.
His eyes spoke of the pain he felt in his heart. "I wish I could… but it would be a lie."
A single tear ran down her cheek. "I knew."
She stood slowly and walked out. Pausing at the door she turned, "Are you going to tell his father or shall I?"
"You."
-.-.-
"My lord? My lord? Your son is dieing. Will you not go to him?"
He did not answer.
She knelt before him and took his cold hand in hers, softly stroking it. She he didn't even look at her.
"Will you do nothing?"
Tears came and she left him.
He did not see her go.
-.-.-
She knelt at his bedside. Tears ran down her face, wetting the white cloth of the sheets. He had finally died. For three days he had held on wavering between life and the graves of his fathers. Sometimes he opened his eyes, but they were filled with the glow of fever.
He called for her sometimes, and other times he called for his father. His voice was hoarse and rough. His father never came. She always did.
Now he was dead!
-.-.-
She did not go to his father this time her brother did. She could not look into the eyes that now no longer recognized her, sometimes she wondered if they even saw her.
Her brother didn't come back. He offended someone, not the King. He was to far gone to even understand what was said to him. No, it was the King's adviser, the creeping crawling vile mass that he was. She saw her brother ride away from a high window.
She cried.
He paused on the crest of a low hill, his hand lifted. He knew she was watching. It was his way of saying goodbye. Tears blurred her vision as she turned away. She could not watch him go.
She was alone.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Oh, but you are alone.
Who knows what you've spoken to the darkness…
… in the bitter watches of the night…
… when all your life seems to shrink.
The walls of your bower closing in about you.
A hutch to trammel some wild thing in.
(quote: Grima Wormtongue from The Two Towers the Movie)