Fantasy Appeasing Guilt

[StatusUndead]

The war was brutal. How did it come to this? Was the cost worth it? How could she ever atone? These were but a few of the questions that Princess Amadalia Momodaliaus of the Momodaliaus kingdom asked herself. She was supposed to be the kingdom's top strategist. Even above that, she was feared by other kingdoms for her ability to prevail against unwinnable odds. Yet there was nothing she could do as the royal council enacted their plans to end the war.

Their enemy was not only fierce and cunning, but they were absolute in their overwhelming power. For the first time in her life, Princess Amadalia had no idea how to achieve victory. Thus, the council proposed a terrible plan. They would send assassins to slaughter many members of the royal family, including women and children. Though they killed them as quickly and painlessly as possible, their plan involved carving them up and strategically placing them about in the most horrific manner possible. The idea was that not only would much of their leadership be slain, but the horror of the scene would demoralize their foes.

The Princess was only among a few that opposed the plan. Though she didn't voice her opposition, it was clear when the council voted for the plan that she was against it, as only a small handful of members didn't vote. Even worse, the plan worked perfectly. It worked so well that the elite members that carried out this plan were decommisioned due to the psychological torments they had inflicted upon themselves. There wasn't a day that went by that the Princess did not weep for her enemy's loss.



Months had gone by as the two kingdoms worked out the details of their new peace treaty. The Momodaliaus kingdom had recovered, even propspered, since the war. Though it wasn't all positive. Most of the elite members that had carried out the insidious plan had committed suicide. Of the sixty members sent, only thirteen remained. Of those, only one had recovered and returned to duty. Of the twenty-seven council members, three had committed suicide due to their grief. seven more have stepped down from their roles.

To the everyday citizen, though, life was better than it has been in a long time. For years, rising tensions and wars with neighboring kingdoms inhibited trade and diminished supplies. Since the end of the war, something changed. Rumors began spreading about how the two kingdoms were going to be allies. Some say that they've had enough bloodshed, so they want to seek peace instead of war, and work things out through diplomacy. Whatever the rumors may be, they've inspired confidence in traveling merchants, bringing an abundance of trade to the Momodaliaus kingdom. Yet still, every day, the Princess wept.



One day, a letter had come from their new partner kingdom. Princess Amadalia's hand had been given to the Prince of their kingdom. She was to be married. This wasn't a shock to her. It was normal for daughters to be married off as gifts of peace. She knew her duties. Knew how important it was for her to fulfill her role to her kingdom, her people. She also saw this as an opportunity to begin atonning for her guilt. She felt she should have been vocal in her opposition. No one would oppose her strategic opinion, but she was so desperate and the situation was dire.

With her newfound news, she dusted herself off and went to her mirror to appraise herself. She had a floor to ceiling mirror. Like most things in the castle, it wasn't adorned with jewels. Instead, if was framed with a rustic looking wood. The Momodaliaus kingdom was known for its artisans and their craftmanship. So they showed their wealth through skilled work. Intricate designs were carved into the frame. Guests from other kingdoms often marveled at them, wondering how such detail was even possible.

As she looked in the mirror, a person looked back. Princess Amadalia did not recognize the person. The woman that looked back was roughly her height, 5'11", rather tall for a woman. She had a rather average build. The woman in the mirror didn't seem to be blessed with curves in all the right places, like many Princesses seem to be. She did have a dark, chestnut colored skintone. A few light brown freckles dotted her face, which was framed with a vibrant mop of curly orange hair. The hair and skin combination was unique among the Momodaliaus family. It was an easy way to tell who was of the royal blood and who was a pretender.

The stranger in the mirror did not have good posture. Their light blue nightgown dragged slightly on the floor due to the slumped shoulders. Despite their dark skin color, there were still dark circles around with brown eyes. Although Princess Amadalia did not know who that person was, she decided it was time she fixed her.

Amadalia picked the stranger up. Straightened her shoulders. Wiped the salted stains from her eyes. There, that was a start. She dressed up the stranger in a beautilful orange dress. Orange was the official color of the Momodaliaus kingdom. Taken from the color of their hair. Since she straightened up the stranger, the dress didn't drag on the ground.

With a light dusting of orange makeup, another signature of the Momodaliaus family, since it pops so well with their skintone and matches their hair, the stranger in the mirror was beginning to look like a Princess. Later that day she would step into her carriage. She was a Princess again. The time for tears were over. She had duties to fulfill. Duties to her people.

 

[noahczerny]

Prince Adiel Aeveoluxis thought he was untouchable.

For a time, the war had proved this. He never lost a single battle. They tore the enemies flags down into blood and dirt in the name of the Aeveolux Kingdom. His soldiers fought hard - overwhelmingly - as they forced the enemy into submission. His kingdom was powerful and unbeatable. But in the same vein, perhaps it was true he underestimated the other side.

Or at least, he underestimated her.

Princess Amadalia Momodaliaus.

The Momodaliaus Kingdom couldn't beat his family through sheer force, so they resorted to something else. Only the weak, frightened for their lives, could think of something so horrible. So immoral, so despicable.

It came at the height of the war. Catching him off guard, tripping him and leaving to fall to the earth unprepared. Knocking the air from his lungs as he'd been punched in the gut. Never in the thousand years of his dynasty had it happened before. The near complete slaughter of the Aeveoluxis line.

Adiel, left alone, would never be the same man.

---

​

His family was a large one. He had six siblings - all of them combined making up the core seven of his families legacy. Only two were born with magic. Adiel was one of the youngest - the extra Prince, the one without great titles. And yet, he never bemoaned this fate. Instead he became a soldier and fought his fathers battles, serving as his commander. His eldest brother would be the next king, and his son the one after that.

It was for them, not just his father, that he was winning this war.

One day Adiel received a note in a familiar hand, calling him back to the palace for a feast.

But the day he came back with his soldiers, the castle doors were left open. Unguarded. That was his first indication something was wrong. With cold fear running down his spine, he stepped on the threshold. Blood and rot filled his nose, causing him to gag. The world as he knew it was slowly disappearing before his eyes.

When Adiel came inside, all the air physically left his lungs.

The entire room was decorated as if a feast was about to take place. Elegant chairs pushed in, decorations and flowers on the walls. His family was around the table. His family, but not quite them. Not quite whole.

They were cut into pieces.

A corpse without a head was seated at the forefront. His fathers head was placed on a plate, blood still drying on it and his crown. He tore his gaze away, only to be greeted by more blood. More flesh. More mutilation. His mother was carved into chunks, only recognizable due to the necklace she wore. Only recognizable because of her black hair, matted with blood.

His nieces and nephews were lain on the surface. Torn into pieces, placed on platters as though they were his families meal. A few leaves decorated their flesh, and Adiel, reeling, felt his cheeks dampen. He still couldn't breathe - couldn't even open his mouth in a gasp. He made a weak, wretched sound.

His sisters faces were mutilated, their eyes plucked out. Only a torso was left on one chair, still in a fancy dress. Their heads were on the table. One of his nephews, a three year old, seemed to have broken into a run. They left his corpse where he was, five feet from the door, arm still outstretched.

The sight hollowed out what remained of his sanity. His knees touched the ground, his hands trembling. Retching, a half-broken moan of agony slipped from his lips. It caught on his teeth.

Broken with grief, he reached for the blade he kept tucked in his belt. His hands grew slippery with blood as he gouged his skin from wrist to elbow. Slicing himself open - as if his body couldn't contain the grief. He fought against the arms holding him back as he paralleled the action on his other arm. Blood droplets splattered on the floor.

He screamed for them to let him die.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

---​

Adiel wasn’t sure how much time passed. His advisors, now leading the kingdom in his stead, said it was months. An inconsequential amount of time. Apparently, they were doing well in ruling in his name. The war was at an end, but Adiel no longer cared whether it was day or night - he no longer cared about the outcome or a single battle. He only knew grief. He only knew his families mutilated faces. Their eyes taken from them, their limbs torn from them - arranged on a dinner table as though they were animals.

Behind the sorrow, something else took root in him, slicing through his heart like a blade. A dark, twisted seed of absolute rage.

His arms healed, the scars as permanent as the ones left on his soul. Sometimes he wandered about the castle as if he was a ghost. Looking for his parents or brothers only to remember they were gone. Perhaps he was going mad, he thought. The Mad Prince - one of the last of the Aeveoluxis line. How sad his royal dynasty could end with him, battered, insane, and alone. He didn't see the point in living. Not by himself. Not without his family.

But soon he found something else to keep him sane. The thought of revenge.

Once it reached the warped, damaged remnants of his mind - it cradled him, soothed him. He fixated on it day and night. It filled his dreams, and he indulged in them as if they were the finest caliber of sweetness. Using his magic to recreate scenes destroying the Momodaliaus Kingdom. Once he dreamed of killing them one way, he visualized killing another. First swords, then axes. Then torture. He wanted to burn their kingdom to the ground. He wanted to carve the Princess' heart from her chest. Perhaps he'd torture her first. Perhaps he'd make her beg to spare her life.

That would give him only a sliver of satisfaction.

His revenge, growing from the deranged seed in his heart, bloomed into a forest. A complex plan, starting with her. One morning, he finally peeled himself from his bed. His hair tangled, his eyes sticky with sleep. Moving an inch felt like agony. His thighs shook with exertion, the muscles screaming from misuse. He had barely moved in the past months. But today, he wanted to send a letter.

His handwriting uneven, the letters shaky, he asked them for Princess Amadalia's hand.

Her - or he would end the peace and destroy them.

---

​

They accepted his proposal.

An official peace to end to all war - brokered and sealed by the promise of their marriage. To the same Princess who orchestrated the murder of his family. Bloodthirsty thoughts made for a balm to his suffering, and as he counted the days before their meeting, he kept himself busy with his revenge. He imagined putting his hands around her throat, and it allowed him to breathe again. He tried to pull himself back into a semblance of a man. He was a shadow now. A shell. Half a human.

He allowed his servants to cut his overgrown black hair to his shoulders. Choked down his first full meal in months - though he retched it all up later.

At six foot two, he once cut an imposing figure. A handsome one, even. Once tanned, yet his skin was now a ghostly pale color. His eyes, a shade of purple, were a dull violet. Barely alive. Barely responsive. He wasn't half what he used to be. But his thoughts kept him focused. He began to train again with his sword. First he could only persist for three minutes. Then five, then ten. Then twenty, then an hour. Then two.

The day approached too quickly. Princess Amadalia was coming to stay. The night before, he didn't sleep. He could've, perhaps. With his magic, he could've done it simply. But that night a frenzied energy ran through him, keeping his mind fixated on her.

Now it was only the morning, but Adiel kept walking to the window, searching for a glimpse of a carriage on the horizon. His servants exchanged worried glances, then went to finish preparing her room. His arms crossed, he pressed his cheek to the window.

He didn't move for an hour.

 

[StatusUndead]

As she rode through the Aveolux kingdom, Princess Amadalia Momodaliaus could feel the somber mood of the people. It was clear they also felt the loss of the royal family. The people's loyalty and closeness to the family was part of the reason her own kingdom's council had considered such a horrendous act. It weighed down on Amadalia. Though, as she promised herself, she would not cry.

The beautiful weather and smell of fresh vegetables being grown in the nearby farms was an insult to the occasion. It was as if the Earth itself was celebrating the act, encouraging them forward. It sickened her, causing her face to scrunch up in disgust at the thought.

As her carriage approached the Aveolux castle, she couldn't help but marvel at its construction. Though few could math the artisans of the Momodaliaus kingdom, one couldn't help but appreciate the amount of work and engineering that went into completing such a feat.

Although her marvel continued as the approached the castle, even through being escorted to the main hall to meet the Prince, she kept her demeanor stoic. Despite the splendor of the halls, there was an eery emptiness. There was a maid here, a guard there, but it was otherwise empty and quiet. She wondered if the halls would have been more lively had they not slaughtered the royal inhabitants. The thought of lively children gleefully playing through the rooms saddened her. Yet, she still did not cry.

He name and title were announced as she entered the great hall of the throne room. The sight astonished her. It was as if they were celebrating some great achievement. A massive banquet table was adorned with delectable delights. It was a shock to her. She thought they'd still be devastated.

Once her initial daze faded, she began to notice how strange the scenario was. The tables were full of empty seats. Each seat had a nameplate to indicate who sat where. As she got closer, she recognized the names as the targets of that cruel act. Each seat had an attending servant. They started picking and scooping food onto everyone's plate in unison after she entered. There was even a table for the children. It came with its own set of empty chairs and busy servants serving food to ghosts. It was all she could do to avoid choking out a sob.

She had eventually realized she had stopped walking, having been escorted to the Prince. She regained her demeanor and looked up towards the man. Her eyes were wet, but she did not cry. She waited a moment, but nothing happened. The Prince just stared. That's when it dawned on her. This was theatrics. She wondered if this was the reason the Prince had asked for her hand in marriage. She wondered if she would last the night, if it was just a ploy to torture her before ending her life.

She let none of those thoughts bother her. She did deserve it after all. She should have opposed the plan more vehemently. So, for now, she curtsied towards the Prince before speaking, her royalty showing in her articulation, "Prince Adiel Aveoluxis, of the Aveolux kingdom. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope our union will prove to be a fruitful one, leading to the prosperity of both of our kingdoms."

She kept her position, waiting as long as it took for the Prince to either speak, or if he was here to kill her, act.

 

[noahczerny]

As Princess Amadalia arrived, all of Adiel’s rehearsed words flew from his head. In its place was a raging, burning anger, directed at the face of the woman he blamed for all his suffering. All the plans and plots drifted away. Gone. Extinguished. He saw red, covering his gaze and distorting his vision. He could only see his family in front of him, remembering their faces and the suffering they surely endured.

It was by a miracle that he was pulled from this haze, solely by Princess Amadalia beginning her announcement. An introduction, he realized. He could hardly stomach the pretense of hearing her. The simplicity of it - the normalcy of it - made him want to scream. This wasn't what she thought it was. He would show her that. How could she come here and act civil despite what she'd done?

Adiel still wondered how the Princess would react at the festive sight he'd designed. The tables, the nameplates, the food. He wanted to show her the loss for herself - the loss she caused. How could she stand to see the dozens of empty chairs? Especially the ones for the children? Or perhaps she was heartless, as heartless as he thought her to be, and it wouldn't affect her at all. After all, only a sick woman could think of such a terrible thing, and then execute it.

Perhaps he'd show her the graveyard next.

Eventually, Adiel finally looked at Princess' face. It had taken him some time to finally drag his eyes there. His face was stony, and he remained seated on the throne even as she curtsied. If she thought he would show any respect to her, that was laughable. He wouldn't stand or bow. He only sat forward, dressed entirely in black - the only real sign of his mourning in the entire room.

“Princess Amadalia Momodaliaus," he said after an excruciating silence. "I wish I could say it is a pleasure to meet you, but it is not."

One of his fists rested on his knee, curled so hard the skin turned lighter.

“You are one of the people who had my dynasty destroyed, after all."

His voice, once calm and calculated, seethed with his rage. And yet, he only just managed to keep it together, speaking after a few moments of excruciating silence. "But we are royalty, so duty comes before all else. Especially for the sake of our kingdoms."

He stood, walking away from the throne, and ascending the steps towards her. "Sadly, my family isn't here to attend your welcome feast," he said pointedly, glancing around at the room. "Still, I'd like to introduce them to you."

"Follow me."

Adiel, perhaps seeming absolutely insane, led the Princess right to the table. The plates were full of steaming, lavish food, the cups filled to the brim with wine. The servants stepped back a few paces, all of them leaving their posts as the Crown Prince and his future wife approached. He brought the Princess to his fathers chair and told her who he once was. This was where my father, the King, sat. His nameplate gleamed in the dull light. Then they walked to the left, where his mothers nameplate sat, and he 'introduced' her as well.

Then he began to introduce all his siblings, name by name, syllable by syllable. Each one a name of the dead. Adiel's expression was blank as he said each one, feeling his throat nearly close with his grief. But it had to be done. He would say the name of every single family member he once had.

Princess Amadalia needed to know each and every person she had killed.