If These Wings Could Fly
By Draic Kin of the Balance
"Sunlight comes creeping in
Illuminates our skin
We watched the day go by
Stories of what we did
It made me think of you
It made me think of you
Under a trillion stars
We danced on top of cars
Took pictures of the state
So far from where we are
They made me think of you
They made me think of you
Oh lights go down
In the moment we're lost and found
I just wanna be by your side
If these wings could fly
Oh damn these walls
In the moment we're ten feet tall
And how you told me after it all
We'd remember tonight
For the rest of our lives
I'm in the foreign state
My thoughts they've slipped away
My words are leaving me
They caught an airplane
Because I thought of you
Just for the thought of you." –Birdy, Wings
Betraying someone you love—it blackens your soul. It's a weight you carry all your days. My father's last words were a weight on my heart, a weight that was pulling my heart deep into the oceans of guilt amidst grief. Father lay before me, lifeless, his grasp on my hand loosened. His hand was deathly cold. A ragged sob escaped my chest against my bidding, my guilt gnawing at me from the inside out.
"God forgive me," I whispered. I was a murderer. My father's blood was on my hands, and I was the king of France in his stead. It wasn't supposed to come to this. I wasn't supposed to be the one to kill my father, but I didn't have any other choice, and I knew from the moment I donned that armor and mounted that horse that there was no turning back, no second chances. I did what had to be done, for my country and for Scotland. For my wife. And, even with that knowledge, it still hurt. It felt as if there was a deep void in my heart, one that could not be filled. Not even by Mary, whom I love more than anything in the world. She could never understand what I was going through. My father had carried the weight of killing his own brother to take the throne for himself for his entire life. I killed my father for the sake of our countries, and that was my cross to bear for the rest of my days.
In that moment, it became too much for me to stomach. I rose from my father's bedside, wanting nothing more than to get out of the room as quickly as I could. The bells were tolling. "The king is dead! Long live the king!" The guards were kneeling, and the doors opened. Bash. I faltered in my steps, and our eyes met for one brief moment, and he too kneeled. Something inside me broke, and I ran to him, pulling him up to his feet and threw my arms around him, crushing him to me. My brother returned the embrace, and I succumbed to my sorrow as I sobbed into his shoulder.
"Shhh, shhh. You needn't be strong for me, brother," Bash said softly. I didn't need any more encouragement, but I still tried to quiet my tears and compose myself, but to no avail. My brother held me closer, and combed his hand through the hair at the back of my head, making soothing sounds. I couldn't remember the last time we'd hugged like this. We weren't as close as we were before; we had let our shared feelings for Mary get between us—but that was in the past. Things were different now, and we'd put our differences behind us.
"It hurts," I wept. "It hurts, please make it stop, please!"
"It's going to be okay, Francis," he murmured. "I promise." He held me closer to him, if possible, as my heartache and remorse consumed me. I don't know how long it was until my sobs finally slowed as I took in shaky deep breaths to calm myself down, stray tears making their way down my face. My brother gently disengaged from our embrace, and leaned our foreheads together. A heavy silence filled the hall. There was nothing that could be said.