Blood for the Crown

The solid oak table separates Malcolm and me as our nursemaid, Lucy, babbles on about our 18th birthday plans. We lock eyes, having one of the many silent conversations we've had throughout the years.

We are both done with all this planning.

Our birthday is tomorrow, and everything has been set for several days. I can tell Malcolm is just as nervous as I am about it. King Harland, our father, has never told us who the throne's heir will be. He would always tell us when we're 18, he'll announce who he has chosen.

We both thought it was an attempt to sow some hate between us twins, but we never cared. We always joke that I should be in line for the throne since I was born an hour before Malcolm, but he has always been the father's favorite. I wouldn't be surprised if he elects Malcolm to take the crown. Father has taken him to train regularly since he could hold a sword, leaving me to train with one of the guards.

"Julian, are you even listening? We need to make sure this celebration tomorrow is perfect! All the noblemen from our kingdom and beyond will be there."

I hear Lucy yell at me. I didn't even realize she was talking to me, and she definitely looks furious. I can hear Malcolm snicker, and I shoot him a glare before looking at the maid.

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

"You better listen to me, boy, or you'll be sleeping in a brothel in the slums before you know it. I asked if you went to your fitting this morning for the suit you'll be wearing?"

I stare at her blankly, and she already knows the answer. I didn't. I forgot all about it. Malcolm challenged me to a duel, and I couldn't say no. He beat me the last two times I challenged him, so I needed to make it clear that I wasn't losing my touch. After I swept him off his feet, causing his breath to escape him, I surely made my point clear.

Lucy sighs, "I'll tell the seamstress to be in your room in half an hour. Malcolm, take him to his room. I want you both to wait till she arrives because I doubt you even saw her, too." She glances at Malcolm, and he smiles sheepishly; he avoided the appointment too.

"Yes, ma'am."

We both say before standing; we push our chairs in before Lucy tells us off again. She's been under so much stress with this party. Malcolm and I reach the hallway. I see a silent challenge that gleams in Malcolm's eyes. A subtle twitch of a smile plays on my lips, accepting the race to my room. Quicker than he can do anything, I push him into the wall, giving myself a head start.

~~~~~

After the seamstress leaves my chambers, Malcolm challenges me to another duel. He's never been one to ask for as many fights as this; usually, I'm the one who keeps asking for a duel, but we both want something else on our minds that's not about tomorrow. We step into the sand pit, raise our blunt swords, and strike. We fall into a rhythm, our swords clanging against each other, neither of us going for the finishing strikes. We have decided to make this one last. He's the first to speak up.

"How do you think tomorrow will go?"

"Father will start with parading us around the castle, then making us talk to everyone at least twice, maybe even three times. Then, before the cake, he'll announce that you are the crowned prince, and I'll be sent away to only the Gods know where."

Our swords hit, and he loses grip, and the sword falls to the sand, sliding a bit away.

"Are you okay? You seem out of it."

Malcolm runs his hand through his hair.

"You don't seem as worried as I am. Our whole lives are about to change. We don't know who the father is going to pick. And don't say it's me again."

I lower the sword in my hand. "I don't think it changes that much. We will be there for each other, right?"

I hear a sigh. "Yeah, let's stick together no matter what."

I nod, giving him a pat on the shoulder for some comfort before I go to kick his sword toward him. "Redo?"

~~~~~

Something is off. As I come to, the ground is hard beneath me. I hear cheering in the distance with music playing. My head is pounding, and my mouth is dry.

I open my eyes and see a small area of dirt. The stone walls surround me, and a metal cage door.

I'm in the arena.

That's miles away from the castle. How did I get here? The last thing I remember is having breakfast and my father talking to Malcolm before he nods off. I tried to reach for him then... Nothing I don't remember.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Get ready to meet the heir of this kingdom!"

The metal doors start opening, and I walk out, seeing the same confused expression on Malcolm's face on the other side of the sandy area. A stack of weapons and shields is placed in the middle of the dome. We walk to them, looking at each other before we get a word in.

"These two princes will be fighting to the death! The last one standing will get the crown!"

We both freeze. Did we hear that right? A fight to the death? Neither of us plans to kill the other for just a title. The king looks at us like he expects us to fight, but when we do nothing. The entertainer speaks again.

"Every hour that they both are alive, a castle servant member will be executed. Starting with the lovely nursemaid, Lucy."

We both look at each other again. No one had shown us this plan for our birthday. We both grab a sword. Our intention isn't to kill each other for King Harland but to stall until we figure out what to do next. Father has gone crazy. He would probably execute someone before the hour if we stand here. I can't believe this is how the crown will be chosen. One of us has to be killed in front of all these noble people. They love the show because they cheer us on with the sword in our hands.

I look up at the large platform our father is sitting on. Lucy stands there crying as she watches us. Her ankles and wrists are chained together. I can't see her die like this.

Our swords hit together, the loud ringing echoing off the stones. We don't fully attack each other, but with nothing else to do, we fight.

There's no way out of this arena, and guards are stationed everywhere; even if there were a way out, we wouldn't be able to go. I suspect they have a free range of killing us if we stepped one foot out of the sand.

"Did you know about this?" Malcolm whispers to me like someone could hear us even though we are in the middle of the area.

"No! I didn't think Father had it in him to do something like this. I thought he was going to choose you and send me off. That must be why he's been training you so much lately."

Malcolm strikes me, and I block our swords, clashing against each other repeatedly and prolonging this experience as much as we can. The crowd is booing since we haven't drawn any blood or tried killing each other yet. We must act like we want the crown, but I couldn't hurt my brother. So, Instead of dodging his attack, I leave myself open. I grunt in pain as the sword swipes through my arm. The crowd erupts in cheers as the first blood is drawn.

" What are you doing!?"

I look at him. I know it has to be him on the throne next in line. To get rid of King Harland, who did this to us.

"You need to take the throne. Before he kills Lucy or anyone else. No one in the castle deserves a death like this."

He shakes his head. I can tell he's not gonna do it without some prompting from me. So, with one arm down at my side, I was useless. I swing my sword at him, and he blocks it, but only just before it hits him. I swing repeatedly, trying to be fast to where it's hard to keep up.

"I can't do this, Julian. I need you; you said we'll be by each other's side."

He swings at me, and again, I don't block. The swipe goes across my leg. He thinks I'm just playing. But no, I need him to be the one that wins this. I step back to the weapon rack, grab a knife, and go to tackle him.

"What are you doing!? Have you lost your mind!?"

He yells as he tries to wrangle out from under me, so I flip us, grabbing his hands together with the knife in the middle. I force the blade to my heart as I press down.

"It has to be you," I say again, hoping he'll understand as I drive the blade a little deeper into my chest. The pain is terrible, but I have to do this. I feel him trying to pull away, but he isn't strong enough.

"No, no, no, I can't go on without you!" Tears form in his eyes.

"It's okay. You'll be a better king than I would be, and you can make Father pay for what he has done."

He looks up at our father, our king. The maid has a sword to her throat. A minute longer, and she'll be dead, too. He looks at me, pleading in his eyes.

"It's okay I'll be waiting for you."

I stop having to fight him. I can feel him decide as he screams and pushes the knife into my chest, the grief written on his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. I feel the sharp pain.

"I love you," I gasp out before I draw my last breath.