V.
Kukuh's First Spring in Omashu
He remembered the scene, the blood red sky, the pools of blood on the fields. The corpses, the crying widows and women, seeking their husbands and sons. Scurrying through the fields without stopping to find those who they knew they had lost. Where a woman would find the person she was searching for, she would shriek. The cries were chilling, its echoes penetrating into the core of ones very being.
The last time he had seen this, he found himself in the arms of Sali, where he would drift off. Now, however, he stood on a mountain, overlooking the battlefield. But was it really a battlefield? It looked more like a slaughterhouse.
From one of the pools of blood, a hand emerged. Sen climbed out of it, drenched in blood.
"Don't leave Kukuh," he said, reaching his hand out towards him. "Don't leave."
He stumbled backwards, tripping over a broken piece of wood. He fell on his back. Before his very eyes, Sen dissolved back into the pool of blood whence he had come. He wanted to cry out, but couldn't. His throat was dry and coarse, and no water was near to alleviate the thirst.
A hot wind swept in from the east, bearing with it the stench of blood and death. The cries of those who were searching their loved ones died out with the changing wind.
He looked to his left. From another pool of blood, a pair of hands emerged. Kuarsa climbed out and walked towards him, saying the same Sen had said: "Don't leave Kukuh."
Kuarsa was only able to make a few steps before he also dissolved into blood. He, or rather it, stained the ground near Kukuh crimson red. A little puddle of blood formed, also staining one of Kukuh's fingers.
He tried to crawl away, but another rose from one of the pools, this time king Batu. "Don't leave us Kukuh," he said also.
Everywhere he looked, people covered in blood climbed out of the pools; people he knew, but also many strangers. All of them saying the same phrase, in a kind of rhythm, a cadence, beating his ears, filling his heart with terror.
There was no place he could run too, they surrounded him. He could not reason with them, for they only repeated that which they had been saying from the start.
"Don't leave us Kukuh."
Some tried to reach for him, to grab him, maybe to drag him into one of the pools to become like them. He tried to fend them off, successfully at first, though more and more of the blood covered beings started reaching out to him.
At last, two of them got a hold of him and started dragging him towards the pool in which they stood. He tried to scream, but couldn't, until suddenly his throat gave way to sound.
He sat upright in his bed, sweating profusely. His head jerked from the right to the left, looking around him. Everything around him was dark. Out of the opened window, he could see some faintly-lit clouds, and a few stars.
He got out of his bed and walked towards the window, to stare through it at the sky. To the far left, he saw the moon. It was nearly full. It was quiet. No sound could be heard from the streets, no sound came from the other side of the abyss. During nights like these, one would nearly forget about the enemy, waiting on the other side. One would nearly forget about the ongoing siege.
One Year into the Siege
How he had waited for this moment. He reveled in it, now that it was upon him. He was born for it. Everything he had been taught had the goal of preparing him for the task at hand. For years he had to wait, in the end, it seemed like an eternity, never coming to an end. Though it had frustrated him, he could not deny that he admired the stubbornness of his father.
His father had been sick, frail, not to mention ancient, but still he held onto life. He simply refused to die.
He could only hope he shared his father's resilience. Ruling for only a few years would not suffice. He did not wait for over sixty years to ascend to the throne, to die shortly thereafter.
No, his rule would be long. His rule would be grand. He would restore the kingdom's greatness, defeat its enemies, maybe even expand its sphere of influence. His enemies would cower before his might. His friends and servant would cheer at the sound of his name. The nations of the world would bring him gifts and be awed by the splendor of his rebuilt kingdom.
Only that one problem, the ongoing siege…
Omashu should be able to ride out the war unscathed. They wouldn't dare to attack the city. They couldn't starve it out either. His father had been wise to keep a sizeable stockpile of food in the granaries at all times.
He shouldn't give it much thought as of yet. Now it was his moment. A day to remember. His coronation.
He walked the hallway towards the throne room, alone. No guards were needed; this part of the palace was secure. He had no wife to accompany him, not anymore at least, and his son… well, his son was like every man in the family.
Stubborn, like his grandfather. To be fair, his father was at least as stubborn, if not more.
And so he walked, alone, the long hallway, towards the crown he deemed his rightful part in the world.
It all played out in his mind for one last time. The horns would sound, as would the drums be beaten. The people would cheer and call out his name. There he would be, the savior of the kingdom. The one to restore it to its grandeur of times past.
After his coronation, he would feast. And lavishly so. As a king should.
Fruits and meats from the farthest reaches of the kingdom which his father had kept in the storage room of the palace. During the ceremony, the cooks would prepare it in such a way that it would astonish all those present. It would be a night to remember.
And also a night to forget. A night to forget that danger that lurked at the gates. A night to forget the responsibility, which now started to come down on his shoulders.
He approached the door. He wondered where the officials were. They should've been waiting for him. He was alone.
He wondered if he should look around. He dismissed the thought. The moment was here. With or without officials, he would be crowned, and he would feast.
Defiantly, he swung open the doors to the throne room. A bright light filled his eyes.
He opened his eyes and stared at the sunlit wall. It took a while for reality to sink in, but when it did, Su'at was enraged. He threw his blankets away, jumped out of bed and threw a small table against the wall. It broke, the pieces falling to the floor of his room.
A servant rushed in to check on him.
"How does my father fare?" Su'at inquired.
"Same as ever, my prince."
He sighed.
"Then I guess I must wait a little longer…"
The End of Spring
He couldn't remember how he got in this situation. It was probably her doing. It was likely she had spun a story to get him here. Somehow, she finds ways to get him to do things he would normally not do.
He pushed himself away from the rock he had been clinging on to, swimming towards the other side of the waterfilled pit. The sun's rays reflected in the water. He looked around him. Trees and other shrubs surrounded the edge of the crater. It was like he was in his own private paradise.
With her of course. She lay on a rocky protrusion just above the waterline, tanning in the sun.
To tease him, she had removed her swimwear. Typical.
He couldn't help himself but peek from time to time. He made sure she didn't see.
Not that she would mind. On the contrary. It would motivate her to do such things more often.
He climbed up a rock, sitting in the sun to warm up a little. The water was a bit too cold for his liking.
His eyes trailed towards the girl laying across from him. This time, he couldn't take his eyes from her. He stared. Long. Really long.
It looked like she was sleeping. Her long hair draped along the rock, down into the water. The water droplets on her skin glistening in the sun. Her breasts, standing up firmly as the Kolau mountains. Her stomach, looking as soft as his pillow at home.
He wondered how it would feel to rest his head upon it.
He took some time to admire her legs as well. It was strange, he had seem them before, but somehow they hadn't affected him then. Never before had they evoked such arousal as he felt now.
Then again, that arousal was likely caused by all the forbidden fruits on the platter before him.
He looked at her face, that pretty face. Those beautiful blue eyes.
Staring right at him.
He was wide awake. Coming to his senses, he heaved a sigh of relief.
He did not only feel relief however. He also felt disgusted, not by what he had seen in his dream, but by himself for dreaming it.