Weight of Prophecy

Prophecies were normal in their world.

In fact, it would be unusual to not have the local prophetess visit on the eve of a baby's birth to deliver some form of vision of their futures. Whether it be something so casual as their destined career path or something so significant as their greatest moment of triumph, most would have some clue as to what would befall them during their lives.

And when the royals were born their destinies tended to be so much greater and more significant. 

The Prophetess of the Central Guild swept into the small, but elaborately furnished nursery. It was her duty to carry out the will of the prophets. Her duty to pass on the words that were destined to shape the life of the new Prince. She took pride in her role, barely acknowledging the advisors who had cajoled and wormed their way into the most private of ceremonies. The Queen had clearly had the time to regather her composure after the birth of the young prince, hiding her fatigue and looking as one would expect a Queen of the Royal Vorten line to look. The babe in her arms was sleeping, with the King sending proud looks in the direction of his small family in between discussing the necessary arrangements for the announcement of their heir to the public. The advisors eagerly jostled for attention during the discussion, desiring to become that much closer to the King's trust and higher in his esteem as was often standard in the meetings of the Court. 

"Henric."

The King turned, having not noticed the entrance of the Prophetess, and the advisors immediately went silent as the woman beckoned their king over. Any thoughts of the behaviour being disrespectful were deeply buried in their minds; this woman had power. 

The man was, however, smiling as he went to his wife's side, joining the prophetess. 

"Azula, you are one of a small number who would have the gall to beckon me. You have not changed at all."

"Of course not. I am guild."

The words could have been seen as dismissive, but the small glint of humour in the woman's eyes revealed her true feelings. She turned to the Queen, and the new Prince. 

"Elena. You are well?"

"Very well, Azula. Yourself?"

"Tired with the endless niceties society seems to inflict upon us."

Elena laughed, and the sound appeared to wake the Prince. 

Azula crouched so she was on the baby's level and smiled as the child stared back at her.

"Let us read your future, child. Shall we?"

She rested a hand on the baby's head, her thumb resting on his temple, and closed her eyes. The rush of voices ever-present in her mind cleared and a single whisper prevailed.

Azula opened her eyes as the voice faded and blinked. Such contradictions in the future of this Royal. No time-frame was given. No circumstance. This prophecy left more questions in its wake than answers.

"Henric, I do not think it wise your advisors hear this."

Mutterings broke out of said advisors before they were silenced by a sharp glare from their King.

"You think it wise they leave?"

"I do."

One glance was all it took for the men to bow and remove themselves from the room in a hasty fashion.

Henric and Elena jointly looked to the Prophetess; it was almost eerie how they often acted in unison.

"Azula?"

"The Prophecy?"

Azula sighed and spoke, her voice soft.

"The babe will kill his father. And as King, he will eradicate true evils."

Silence.

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - .

Thirteen year old Kieran laughed with his tutor as they leapt the fences, their horses easily handling the rough terrain and the young prince well versed in handling the flighty creature that he had paired with three years before.

Elena smiled at the happy expression her son was wearing, knowing that his new lessons in politics had had the young prince readjusting once more to an increased workload with his lessons. He was always so studious, he rarely laughed in such a carefree manner. Despite their attempts otherwise, the young prince had taken the words of his prophecy to heart. And how could one eradicate evils if they were weak? He was driven, focused and refused to let such a thing as age stand in his way.

And they were so proud of him.

But he was growing so fast.

She sensed another behind her and smiled as she recognised the presence.

"He definitely takes after you with that care-free attitude to danger, Henric."

This was said as her son flipped from his horse mid-air and landed in a perfect battle stance

Her husband laughed as he watched the boy mock argue with his now frowning tutor, who soon threw their arms up in evident defeat. 

"And takes after you with his ability to worm himself out of any trouble he gets himself into because of it."

"He is so mature. So much more so than the other boys."

"He has chosen to be... You think we should tell him sooner."

She shook her head at her husband's ability to read her and sighed.

"He acts like those in their young adult years. And we are already receiving so many offers in the way of betrothals. He is becoming a young man Henric. I don't want secrets. We are at the point where if we wait any longer, we can no longer use the excuse that we wished him to have a childhood free from worry-"

"You are babbling. You haven't done that in years."

He put a finger to his wife's lips as she went to speak again and shrugged.

"I was going to mention it myself, El. He is old enough to understand."

His mind flashed back to a few days after the prophecy had been given. 

Henric had been speaking to his oldest advisor and closest confidante, Derrin, discussing the full prophecy. Derrin was initially cautious but agreed with his friend and King's assessment. What would be will be and, unlike some other nobles whom they could both name, Henric would never harm his son. After all, there was no circumstance given and no time frame. Henric refused to live in fear of his own son and would raise him as though they had never heard the prophecy. Derrin's advice had been to let the young prince know the latter half of his destiny when he was at the traditional age but reveal the other half when he was more mature and able to handle the obvious emotional difficulties that would stem from this. Henric had been glad his old friend followed his way of thinking but they had both been startled by a sharp scream and had immediately run from the room towards the royal nursery, three doors away.

They came across the Queen, blood dripping from her arm where she had blocked an assailant who had planned to attack the prince. The same assailant that was shortly thrown to the ground by the Queens personal guard.

The guard was full of apologies for the attack, but Elena succinctly pointed out that he was not to blame and that she would have allowed entry to the assailant in any case.

This had led both Henric and Derrin to look at said assailant and fight shock at seeing another of the advisors from the inner circle.

The growing look of fury from the king, as he had tended his wife until a healer took over, had the advisor, Rinta, proclaiming is excuses.

"I- I heard you and Lord Derrin talking, My King! You could not do this so I did it for you- To protect-"

"You thought that you could kill my son and gain my favour?" It was rare that the King's voice changed from his usual calm and perfectly trained tenor, so for him to be angry enough that he was practically spitting said more than the words themselves.

"I- I did it for-"

Derrin interrupted.

"You did this for power. For favour. For attention. Well Rinta, you have attention. Only it is not the type you so clearly desired."

A nod from the King, to the guard that was still reeling in guilt, and short work was made of the advisor.

"Arten?"

The perfectly poised voice of his queen had the guard turning and kneeling, glancing up at her nervously.

"Yes, my Queen?" Both him and the King were unsure of Elena's response to the impromptu execution, seeing as it was both right in front of her and the baby, and there was an inaudible sigh of relief from both when she spoke.

"Do what you can to make sure none of that blood gets onto the carpet. I doubt it would be easy to remove and I'm sure Leena would not enjoy the additional cleaning task."

The guard' cloak was swiftly placed under the body and additional guards quickly saw to its removal.

"Oh, and dear?"

Henric shot her what he hoped was a winning smile and nodded.

"Yes, my love?"

"One, sweet talking will not work on me. You know this."

"Worth a shot."

"Agreed." The almost silent agreement of Derrin had the Queen frowning at him and he immediately bowed and gestured that he would leave, sidling out even as he made the gesture. Elena waited until he had left, still frowning and hiding the playful glint that wanted to make itself known before she turned back to her husband.

"Next time? Warn a lady. She may wish to have a hand in carrying out justice."

Henric smiled, shaking his head slightly.

"Times like this remind me of why I married you."

Rinta had been known to overhear things he shouldn't and was equally known to be willing to target anyone and anything to achieve his goals. So it was not hard to explain away his death as him having been somewhere he shouldn't have been and having heard something he shouldn't have heard. It was the Royal Court. Such things were to be expected.

And their secret was safe. 

Only now it was clear that they could not keep such a secret for much longer. It was their sons right to know and they had no right to delay this when he was so clearly capable of handling this.

Henric took his wife's hand and smiled.

"We will tell him tonight. I shall inform Derrin. We both know Kieran will speak to him of such matters before he will express emotions to us. He feels he is no longer a child to come to us with such things."

"I miss those days."

"So do I."

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Twenty-two. He was too young to be running this Kingdom. Too young to take his fathers place.

Keiren ran a hand through his hair, wincing as he realised his Fiancé would likely berate him for the action, if only in jest. It was a habit leftover from when he was a child. Not an easy one to overcome either.

He shook his head to clear it before knocking on the door to his Father’s rooms.

He received a quiet, tired invitation and opened the doors.

It was darker in here now. The curtains rarely opened and the overall grief inside feeling almost tangible.

It had been one year since his mother had passed away, a sickness that had plagued the Castle taking her and so many others, despite all attempts to fight it.

And at first his father had been ok. They had had an emergency to deal with. He could grieve later.

Then the illness had resurfaced, and his father had caught it whilst assisting in tending to some of the guards. The healer said he was strong enough to fight it. But she appeared to have no idea of the weight that grief can press on someone and his father had enough to spare.

And it showed.

His father offered him a smile but there was no life behind it. The illness had left him time to think and there was only one person his thoughts came back to. He was living in the past and had no desire to see a future without her.

“… I miss her too Father.”

“I know son.”

It was quiet as Kieran sat at his fathers side and took his hand.

Childish maybe but he needed the comfort.

It was silent for a time until his father spoke.

“You are so strong. So much stronger than I could have hoped. So much stronger than me.”

“You loved her. There is no shame in that.”

“Perhaps. Not shame but there is guilt. I have left so much to your shoulders these past months.”

“I have managed-”

“You have exceeded that. You have excelled my son. Your mother would be so proud of you. She would likely be less proud of me-”

“She would never feel disappointed in you. I know I don’t. Grief has a power of its own.”

“Would you like to hear the prophecy I was given as a child?”

Kieran blinked. It had been kept a close secret to the inner circle and he had never been made privy to it.

“You would like to tell me?”

His father smiled.

“It may somewhat explain. It is not an excuse, but I suppose it is an explanation.”

“… You feel you need an excuse. You don’t. But if it makes you feel better, then I want to hear it.”

“… This child will feel more strongly than most. It will be salvation and downfall. It will be strength and weakness. He will feel love and it will guide him. He will feel grief and it will break him.”

There were many nuances to this prophecy but Kieran focused on the most prevalent one.

“You feel you are broken?”

“Of course you would focus on the heart of the matter. You have always been so intuitive. Do I feel broken? I suppose I do. And I think that might make me exactly that.”

“What is broken can oft times be mended.”

“… I miss her son.”

There was heartbreak there. There was desperation. And there was an apology.

The apology made Kieran afraid, and he was so rarely afraid.

“Dad-”

“You are so much more than I ever hoped. And I love you. I cannot be a burden to you when I know you will do so much.”

“You are speaking as if you will not fight through this.”

Kieran saw the truth in the King’s eyes, once he had spoken.

And he knew he could not be selfish enough to ask his father to remain in a life he thought was so cursed.

“… I’ll get you some water. It’s too hot in here.”

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - .

The black banners did little to portray the grief of a son who now truly understood the weight of prophecy.

The vial had been destroyed.

Derrin gave him a knowing look, full of sympathy and understanding, but no other would ever know. No other could ever know.

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - .

At Seventy years old, Kieran was well and truly at a point hand the crown to his son. Young Tavin was smart, driven and had the politicians in their circles wrapped around his finger. He had assisted his father in numerous deals for trade, education, and medicines. Had begun to step up more and more to play the part of a ruler, since his coming of age twelve years ago, and Kieran felt in his heart that it was time to step down.

He had accomplished much and it was now left to his son to see his work continue.

The ceremony went well. No complaints and a feast that would be remembered in the months to come.

All over the top and extravagant, as was the way of the court.

It was an old man who sat next to the , now retired, king and asked him a question.

“Your prophecy. The latter half. So many are questioning why no huge evil made itself known during your reign.”

“Derrin… The prophesy stated evils.”

The old man thought for a moment, then glanced around and slowly smiled.

“I will pass the word.”

Through his time as king, despite the battles against his reforms, so much had been achieved.

Education had become available to all, regardless of class.

Medicine became widely available and affordable to sooth both minor and severe ailments.

Food was no longer scarce and new tracts of land had been set up to ever expand the grain and vegetable fields needed to feed the growing populace. After all, the royal court wanted to be seen doing their bit to aid their king and they had land to spare.

Builders were always hard at work building new homes, new places of play and learning.

His citizens had the opportunity to find work in the growing industries or art, travel and leisure, created by the agreements and contracts carried out with other neighbouring lands.

There security meant they could help others perhaps less fortunate and a true sense of community had been created amongst all of his people.

He had eradicated the evils that plagues his land for so many generations.

No longer did children go uneducated to continue the cycle of poverty, hunger, homelessness and plague.

There was no poverty.

There was no constant threat of ever-worsening illnesses.

There was no starvation or homelessness.

There was no war with whatever neighbour deemed themselves superior.

Would there be issues? Yes.

Would there be difficulties? Yes.

But, he thought, as his wife joined him and smiled, linking their fingers, his son was more than capable of continuing his legacy.

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Thirty Years Prior

Azula smiled. This prophecy was so much happier than that which had belonged to the man so keenly watching her now.

“Kieran, Ruelle, your son’s prophecy. His words will have power. His rule will have peace. His life will be lived.”