Caffeine and Magix

writing-prompt-s:

You are the adventurer who went on an epic quest and defeated the evil king, all to gain the sacred amulet and use its one wish to revive your sister. Now everyone expects you to accept her death and use the wish to undo the damage instead. You refuse.

Blood has stopped streaming from the wound bisecting your brow, but it still stings your eyes something fierce. You take your gauntlets off, grimacing as the grime and soot from battle tries to keep the metal welded to your skin. There’d been an explosion during the final fight with the king – no, the tyrant. Explosions, maybe. Your magic’s been erratic lately, the sudden growth of your mana pool far outpacing your control. You wipe your eyes with the back of your cleaner hand.

There’s pressure in your chest you’ve never felt before. You want to laugh. No, you want to scream. Your body is too tired to jump around like you did when you were a little girl, but you find yourself bouncing in place regardless. The thrill of battle and of escaping the castle as it collapsed is thrumming through your veins. You did it. You did it.

You are so happy, so devastatingly happy, that you can feel yourself shutting down. You need—you need rest. Food. Sleep.

Then you can save her. Then you can bring her back.

“Roksala,” Prince Eloyn says. You squint past the last rays of day to see him frowning at you. The ruins of the tyrant’s castle don’t appear to interest him. His eyes narrow. “Are you ignoring me?”

“Didn’t realize you were talking to me,” you say. There is a ringing in your ears. Definitely more than one explosion. “Tyrant’s dead, by the way.”

“Who else would I—"

“We gathered,” Lana interrupts. The older woman doesn’t have a trace of ash on her. Her silver hair is still perfectly twined around her head, her purple mage robes untarnished by mud from journey or blood from battle. Her eyes flick to the ruins. “You would have done better to leave the structure intact.”

“I’m sure Roks did her best,” Knight De says. He at least has seen some fighting while waiting for you to finish up inside. There’s green goblin blood drying into grey patches on his silver armor. He waves off the knights lurking near the edge of the forest. “Back to camp, friends. There are healers to tend your wounds.”

As if reminded, your wounds throb. You’re a passable healer when it comes to slashes, but the deeper hurts are still beyond your ability. Perhaps if you had more than a month of healer training, the story would be different. You killed the tyrant after a two year quest, with one month of training. It makes you want to laugh. “You set up camp?”

“We didn’t know how long you’d be,” De says. What he doesn’t say is that they didn’t know if you’d be back at all. “After we got rid of the small fry, we had to do something to stay busy.”

“There were many lost artifacts hoarded by the evil king,” Lana hisses. She slashes a hand through the air. “Irreplaceable artifacts. The prince was only asking if she lost sight of our objectives while rampaging about.”

“I didn’t phrase it like that,” Prince Eloyn says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. When he looks back to you, there’s none of his dissatisfaction on his face. His lips pull up into a wry smile. “I apologize, Roksala, for haranguing you as soon as you emerged from battle. Are you hurt?”

“No,” you say. Is that what he’d been asking about? The artifacts? You jerk a thumb to the collapsed walls behind you. “I’m sure something survived. Saw some pretty heavy duty magical weapons in there.” You think one of them was the fabled hero’s sword that was supposed to have disappeared a hundred years ago. “You can dig them out tomorrow.”

Lana bristles. “The Prince shouldn’t have to dirty his hands—!”

This time Eloyn interrupts her. “We received reports that the amulet never left the King’s—”

“Tyrant’s,” you correct. The sun is nearly down past the trees, enfolding you all in the fading orange glow of sunset.

“—the former King’s possession,” Prince Eloyn says. He folds his arms. “He may have been twisted by power, but he was still my uncle, Roksala. You would be wise to remember that.”

“He had the amulet,” you say. You pull it by the cord from inside your breastplate. The oblong pendant shines with a soothing green light. Through the glow you can see the symbol of the Goddess who had once bestowed it upon the royal lineage. “Why didn’t he use it at the end of our fight?”

Eloyn and Lana don’t answer. They’re both staring at the amulet as if it’s the first light of day they’ve ever seen in their lives. Like it’s the first spell they ever saw performed. You’d had the same reaction when you looted it from the tyrant’s body. You’d nearly been crushed by the crumbling stone pillars of the throne room before you regained your wits.

It’s De who finally speaks. “He…he likely couldn’t.” The red-haired knight licks his lips. “The Goddess’ gift is deaf to any wish from one as tainted as he.”

“We did it,” Eloyn whispers. He raises a trembling hand to his mouth. “W-we did it, Lana. It’s over.”

Lana’s eyes are misty. “The devastation from this war…we can make it like it never happened. Our kingdom can thrive once more. It can live once more.”

Pardon?

“Pardon?” you ask.

“That amulet can grant any wish,” Lana says. She sniffles and smiles so widely you’d think she’d just seen her second grandchild born. “With some limitations. It can’t do multi-faceted wishes, but if we wish to reestablish the monarchy—Prince Eloyn can reclaim the throne. The destruction that the evil king has wrought can be undone under his careful direction.”

Eloyn lifts his chin. “Our careful direction.”

Lana’s hands clench and she nods quickly. “Yes!”

“We could wish away the destruction from battle,” De says, eyebrows raised. “A little more important than the monarchy, don’t you think?” His eyes widen when he sees Prince Eloyn’s shoulders tense. Hastily he adds, “And Prince Eloyn doesn’t need a wish to reclaim the throne. The people will see his victory over the evil king and rejoice to see him lead them.”

“That is an excellent point,” Eloyn concedes. His brow furrows in thought. “If we wish to restore the capital…the ancestral home of the first king…”

There’s a lot to point out here. One, that no, not everyone agrees that Eloyn’s family’s monarchy should be restored. They’re the ones who produced the tyrant. Why would the commonwealth once again cluster around tainted blood? Lord Rown from the north has been operating as the de facto king for years, sending supplies and troops across the nation to aid those most affected by the tyrant’s vicious rule. If De or Lana or even Eloyn had paid an iota of attention on the journey here, they’d know that.

Secondly, what did De mean by saying Eloyn defeated the tyrant? You literally have his blood in your shaggy brown hair right now.

Thirdly, a castle does not make a king. What did Eloyn think? That the Goddess built the castle herself and bestowed it with blessings? You may have only begun to sense divinity recently, but even you can tell there isn’t an ounce of divine grace left in the ruins around you. If the Goddess blessed the first king, it was a blessing he alone held.

Fourthly—

“The amulet is mine,” you say, tucking it behind your breastplate again. Their eyes follow the motion and stare daggers into your chest. You rest your hand on the hilt of your sword. “Rebuild the blasted building yourself if you want. Dig out the tyrant’s soiled crown and put it on your head. I don’t care. You aren’t getting the wish.”

The sun sets and the eerie gray and purple of twilight blooms around you.

Their collective protest hits you like a wall of sound. The amulet belongs to the royal family, bestowed upon them by the Goddess herself. So many suffered, surely you’d at least wish to restore the peoples’ homes? How dare you be so greedy, so avaricious, so conniving. You owe it to Eloyn to give him the amulet, he’s the prince who will be King and don’t you care about the future of the nation?

This might be the most anger you’ve seen from any of them. When they first joined you on your quest, they spoke of the quest to defeat the tyrant as one would relay a nursery tale. They told you about the forces they’d gathered and discussed their favorite tea in the same conversation. They spoke as if good will triumph over evil. The prince saves the princess (you’re sure there’s a princess somewhere around here) and the kingdom. None of them were desperate. None of them were hungry like you were.

“Come on,” you say. “You can’t be surprised. You knew my goal from the beginning.”

“B-but you’ve seen how the people are starving,” Lana says. She’d actually stayed to help you feed them one night, pouring both of your meager trail rations into a communal stew.

“I’ve been one of them,” you agree.

“You saw my men die in pursuit of the evil king. You saw them die to protect their homes,” De says, face red. You blocked the enemies’ blades as he wept over their bodies.

You repress an ill-timed laugh. “I bear the scars from those battles.”

“You swore an oath to me.” Eloyn’s jaw clenches. “Hand over the amulet, Roksala. That’s an order.”

“You ordered me to swear an oath,” you say. You tilt your head. “I don’t remember giving you one though?”

Eloyn holds out his hand. The motion is imperious and confident, but you can feel his attention waver to your sword. “The power is too much for your hands. I was born to wield it for the betterment of this nation. Give it.”

“You know why I can’t do that,” you say simply.

“Then you’re committing treason. Sir De—"

“We can compromise,” Lana says quickly. She lays a calming hand on Eloyn’s shoulder. “Roksala, you’re a proud warrior of this nation. We want to honor that. Surely there is a wish that satisfies both of our desires?”

You furrow your brow. The amulet is powerful, but it can only do one of two things. Lana knows that. So why is she suggesting—Your face goes blank. “You don’t know what my wish is.”

The silence that follows speaks volumes. De opens his mouth then closes it. Lana is giving you the concerned motherly look she always does when she doesn’t know the answer to someone’s question. Eloyn is glaring at you steadily, arms folded over his chest.

The joy you still feel simmering in your bones is the only reason you don’t get angry. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You people have made it clear from day one that I would never be your equal. Why listen to the wishes of a tool?”

It is a surprise when Lana is the one who’s upset by your words. “You’re a hero, Roksala. We were…busy during the journey. We didn’t talk long about personal things—”

“How are your grandkids?” You don’t really want to know. You just want to see her face pinch into motherly concern. “Tennon’s…five? Right? Gabriel’s getting into the difficult years. Maybe you feel it’s right that your daughter has to deal with the teenage years as well.”

“I—I—”

“We should have listened to your hopes, friend,” De says. You like him for the genuine sorrow in his voice. “It was unkind of us to not treasure them. I hope you know that it was always our intention to honor your contribution to our quest. Please, speak now.”

Eloyn is not quite as good at hiding his manipulation. “I’ll hold onto the amulet while we decide.”

You ignore his hand again. The amulet is warm against your chest. Three against one isn’t fair. “My sister. I’ve spent two years hunting for the amulet to bring her back.”

Lana hisses in a breath. “Ah.”

Ah indeed. The amulet’s powers are well studied. It can either grant any present day wish or it can bring one person back to life. Just one. “Ah.”

“One life against many, Roksala,” Lana tries. She holds her arms open. “If we could bring everyone back, of course that would be our wish. However, it’s not possible. Why not wish for trustworthy roads to support relief efforts?”

“We’re wishing for my family to reclaim the throne,” Eloyn commands.

Both of the elders ignore him. You watch in interest as, for the first time, neither attempts to quell the temper rising on his face. The prince looks young standing behind them with his fists shaking next to his sides.

“Roksala,” De says. He bites his lip. “Your sister…she was a casualty of war. Just one of many.”

“Do you know how she died?” you ask.

De balks. “I assumed in your travels.”

“She died while he,” you point to Eloyn, “led the tyrant’s army to quell the rebellion rising from the north.”

“The former king’s army,” Eloyn says and stamps his foot.

“Your highness,” Lana and De hiss as one.

“They’d raised taxes the previous summer,” you say. You rock back on your heels. Eloyn is the only one who’s gaze sharpens when you appear to be off balance. De and Lana both trained with you before. They know, even off balance, you’re quick. “Rumor had it that we were looking at a larger raise the next. Our land’s lord wasn’t strong like Lord Rown. He did not fight for us though he knew our harvests were poor and our trades routes were in tatters.”

“We all faced hard times under the evil king’s rule,” De says evenly.

You raise your eyebrows. “He wasn’t evil then, was he? After all, you all still followed him. The day my sister’s blood stained the floor of our childhood home, it was a sanctioned royal sword that did it. It was a righteous and virtuous army that trampled our measly harvest and ransacked our pantries. Nobody hanged, Sir De. They all went home.” You frown. You’d come home to your sister already cold. “One way or another.”

“He was evil at that time,” Lana says. She swallows. “We—we were blind to it. We didn’t realize in time.”

The night chills as it sets in. The first stars are appearing overhead. How long until the knights come looking for their leaders? How long until one of the three in front of you tries to take the amulet?

Finally, after so long traveling together, it’s time to say what you need to say.

“The tyrant was always a tyrant,” you say. Eloyn opens his mouth and you watch with vague interest as Sir De grabs his wrist. “Even before the magic twisted him. He only became evil when it was convenient for the nobility to call him so.”

Sir De shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“Ansdelun, the port to the south of the capital burned four years ago,” you say. You eye the three in front of you. “Do any of you know why?”

“Pirates,” Lana says at the same time De says, “An accident.”

Eloyn is silent.

“It was because the Lady of the territory found evidence of human trafficking,” you say. You gesture with the hand not on your sword. “Illegal. Awful. She started a thorough investigation the next day only to be burned alive when shining knights came through and doused the harbor in oil.”

The two elders immediately protest.

“There were riots over costs—”

“It was a raid—"

“It wasn’t our fault,” Eloy says through gritted teeth.

Sir De stares at him, words dying on his lips. “Your highness?”

Your lip curls. “If that’s what the prince says.”

“Uncle was trying to put a stop to it,” Eloyn says. He licks his lips and then squares his shoulders. “I- I wasn’t involved, but he talked to me. After. It wasn’t what it looked like. That’s why he had to do what he did. To protect the prestige of the royal family so we could stop the traffickers.”

“He wasn’t evil then,” you say, mocking. You hadn’t dared to mock the prince on the road. Now that his companions are looking at him with barely disguised unease, you feel a little more comfortable drawling your words. “Nope, not an evil human trafficker.”

“He didn’t have a choice—”

“The King four years ago wasn’t evil—’

“I believe Eloyn—"

You’re tired of denials. You speak over all three of them. “The thing the three of you don’t understand is that it doesn’t matter if and when something is declared evil. The act has consequences without someone in power deciding if it’s good or bad. People don’t get any less hurt because it was a king that killed them rather than a tyrant.”

“So that was your goal all along then, huh?” Eloyn says. He’s shivering with rage. “You pretended to be our ally to get revenge on the royal family. You are a traitor.”

“You allied with me,” you say. You point at your chest. “I made it very clear from day one what my intentions were. If you wanted the amulet then you should have stormed the castle and killed your uncle yourself.”

“I—you were the only one with the right magic to defend yourself against his tainted powers!”

“Powers I earned by doing something,” you say. “When the tyrant’s men killed my sister, I didn’t accept when people said he must have had a reason. I didn’t justify his violence or your inaction in stopping him, Eloyn. I found the wells of power and drank from them. I fought the monsters in the northern woods to test my mettle. I learned the spells of the ancients by diving into the dungeons of Oaken Rook. I didn’t wait.”

“We weren’t waiting, we didn’t know,” Lana says.

“That’s why your wish would be a waste,” you tell her. You huff a laugh. “Mending the roads and rebuilding the towns in a kingdom run by…him? They’ll be in disrepair before his first kid is born.”

“What is it you’re trying to say?” Eloyn snarls. “That I’m not fit to rule?”

“Yes,” you say. The moon is only half risen. “Thank you for finally understanding me. The tyrant stayed in power as long as he did because of the three of you and people like you. People who ‘didn’t know.’ You won’t ever know when something evil festers in your backyard because you hang paintings of places you’d rather be over the windows. So why should you get the wish? You just want your pretty paintings back.”

De’s hand finally falls on his sword. “Roks…we could have compromised.”

“We still can,” you say. “I make the wish to get my sister back. You, me and Lana kill the prince here and now. Ending the monarchy for good will do a lot more for the people than roads and I’ll get my only family back as a reward. Win, win.”

“It’s clear you don’t care about the people,” Lana says. “The number who will die without royal aid after this mess…” Her hands begin to glow with a silver light that outshines the moon slowly rising overhead. “I misjudged you.”

“I am the people,” you say. You don’t draw your blade yet. You want to give them that at least. “I swear I will aid them the best way I know how.”

“You’re evil,” Eloyn says.

“Yes,” you agree. “To you, I would be.”

De moves first.

The first blow belongs to you anyway.

———-.

Your sister’s first day back in the world dawns as sweet and blue as a robin’s egg. You breathlessly hold her hand between both of your own as her eyes slowly open.

She squints. “Why is there a hole in our roof?”

“The royal army used catapults over our village.”

“Goddess,” your sister croaks, “they are the worst.”

“They were,” you agree.

—

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Currently up a week in advance is another story from my Being Villagers (x) Universe:

You are a Hero. You are also an orphan. Sometimes you can only rely on yourself