Writing Prompt Three: The Dark King Will Reign
A writing prompt and a story about a king who strives for good while being bound to the darkness.
Last Weeks Prompt:
Themes: Redemption, Father, Scroll
Subject: Royalty/Nobility
Random Element: A poem/riddle/prophecy
What I Came Up With: The Dark King Will Reign
Patricide is frowned upon, perhaps decried as an evil act. If it hadn’t made me king, they would have locked me up for it. But as these things go, I hadn’t been punished, except for the voices. The whispers that wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t even know their names. The man who did had died by my sword ten years ago.
“You look solemn,” Calamena said.
My gaze grazed the commoners, who paused in their work to stare at my carriage. A woman held a basket, an apple frozen in the process of being placed in it. Conversations died, a child pointed, a man cheered, and a woman shushed him.
“What do they think of me?” I said.
“That you’re a good king,” Calamena patted my hand. She loved me. I was fond of her, but an emptiness had burrowed into me since that day ten years ago. It chewed up emotions like love and spat out numbness.
“Through love or fear, I wonder?”
“There’s no reason to be frightened of you.” Calamena smiled. She always believed in my goodness, but she didn’t know the words that I did.
The Dark King will reign upon the remnants of innocence.
The beginning of the prophecy; the one I had been heading down for ten years, its cryptic words slowly swallowing me up.
We reached the gates of my castle and Calamena fussed over herself. I rested my head against the window and waited for the carriage to slow to a stop. It stilled, a calm returning to the shaking vehicle, and I sighed. The door opened, and a servant greeted me. Stepping onto the cobblestone, I offered a hand to Calamena, who smiled. She always liked it when I treated her with care, and so I tried to, even if I felt nothing. My family awaited me, standing uncomfortably still, their eyes not quite meeting mine. I hadn’t gotten used to it even after all this time, the way my family had frozen over the day that my blade had pierced my father’s heart. Isn’t it funny the way my heart had been shattered too, yet my body lived on?
The Dark King will reign.
“It’s good to see you Raleigh,” Enara, my sister, said. She was the only one who didn’t seem frightened of me, yet a distance remained. She hugged me, her body tense, but still trying to repair the affection that was far too broken between us.
“It’s good to see you, as well,” I said.
Fenrin, my master servant, appeared and ushered me inside as I exchanged pleasantries with my family. It had been far too long since I had been home. Civil war kept breaking out and I wasn’t the type to command from afar. The bloody conflict had finally ended with none of the nation seceding. Yet the war had left my nation weak to other countries’ attacks. I had to hope that I could keep the peace, but I had never been good at that. I never wanted bloodshed, but war always followed me.
Upon his blade, the blood of the unworthy rests.
I didn’t know who the unworthy were, but the words bound me to destruction.
“Your majesty, there’s an urgent matter that I might speak with you about?” Fenrin said.
I nodded, pulling away from my family and leaving my chest cold.
No one will walk beside him. His road is his alone.
We stepped into my office designed by Calamena; warm wood and decorative tapestries complemented a wall of books that I never touched. I took a seat behind my mahogany desk and sighed.
“Tell me,” I said.
“Wraiths are rising in the East,” Fenrin said. The whispers awoke at that.
Please kill me.
I can’t take this anymore.
End me.
I shivered and tried to pay attention to Fenrin. “-They have been beating at the shield, stressing it to its limits. We have sent troops to face them, but their numbers keep climbing. Our soldiers are untested against creatures such as these.”
“I had thought that the wraiths had been vanquished.”
A sword pushing through flesh. Betrayal in the eyes that matched mine. A blubbering damnation of me as blood splattered the ground.
The end of his love rests on the tip of his sword.
“It has been ten years since they have been spotted,” Fenrin said. “But without a doubt, they are back.”
“I need time,” I said.
Fenrin nodded and left. Closing my eyes, the memory of that day played through my mind.
I had held a scroll in my hand; a page with an octagon filled by an intricate pattern of lines drawn on it. For the millionth time, I had run my eyes over it. It couldn’t be true, but the workmanship belonged to my father, a master mage.
“This can’t be real,” I said.
Fenrin looked solemn. “But it is so.”
I wasn’t nearly as practiced in magic as my father was, but I was skilled in my own right. I could spot a forbidden spell, and this one was especially nasty. My fingers traced the hilt of my sword. It felt colder than usual. A sickness built in my stomach.
“And the attacks in the East?” I said.
“They bear the signs.” Fenrin said. The remnants of necromancy that had never been seen before.
My fingers dug into the scroll, leaving it bent. I handed it to Fenrin before I damaged the evidence more. “You’re sure?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then I will go,” I said.
“Are you sure? We can send an assassin.”
“It must be done by my hand,” I said, my voice shaking. I left Fenrin, my heart thrumming through me and making me ill. I forced the screaming thoughts about what I had to do deep down. I had to do it, because now I knew who I was.
The Dark King.
I reached my father’s workshop at the back of the massive property the castle rested on. It had once been a guest house, but had been turned into a chaotic sprawl of test chambers for magic. Papers, tubes, and strange looking contraptions littered tables and the floor. I made my way to the master bedroom. The large room had been repurposed to test incantations. I could hear ruffling noises along with my father’s hums that had once rocked me to sleep. My hand froze on the doorknob as the ache in my chest burned so badly I thought I’d die.
I can’t do this.
Yet I thought of the spell penned by my father’s hand and I strengthened. Opening the door, I startled my father, whose hums ceased.
“What pleasure do I owe this visit?” my father said.
“I felt like stopping by,” I said. I could hear the ice in my voice, not anger or betrayal, just a loss of feeling.
“Are you alright?” he said. “You look pale.”
“What were you doing in the east?” I asked.
“Research, of course.”
My father had long left governing the nation to me as his magical studies took over his life. I hadn’t minded. Practice reigning over my people was important. I was going to be king someday.
Not some day. Today.
“What kind of research?” I ran my fingers over the edge of his workstation.
“The kind to help people.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You’re always working to help people,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. I had always looked up to my father for his kindness, equal to his wisdom.
“I’ve always been for the people,” he said.
“Even those girls?” I said. Memories of the rooms filled with chains and dried blood haunted me, where scorches of my father’s incantation crusted the floor.
“Girls?”
“Why did you do it?” I croaked.
“What are you talking about?” My father glanced towards the door.
I was running out of time. If I wanted things to be easy, all I needed to do was pretend everything was fine. But the motive behind all of it disturbed me. I had to know.
I pulled out my sword and with a quick flourish, pressed it against my father’s neck.
He yelped.
“Why did you kill those girls? No, worse than that.” I snarled. “You made them undead. Made them crave flesh and destruction.”
My father’s eyes went cold. “I see.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, tears flecking my eyes. “You’ve always been kind. How could you stomach it?”
“I do what must be done,” he said. “You will understand once you are king.”
I laughed. It sounded dark and wrong. “Killing innocent girls is necessary now?”
“They were street rats that no one would miss. They would be dead soon anyway. Now, they have a new life.”
“So you’re saying your acts were good?”
“I’m saying that they had a purpose.” He tried to back away.
“What purpose?” I pushed my sword closer to him, letting the tip draw blood.
My father shivered.
“Can you imagine what an army of them would be like?” he said.
“You’re trying to raise an army of undead now?”
“We get challenged on our borders constantly because they think we are weak. No one would question us if we had beings like those on our side.”
“Wraiths can’t be controlled,” I said. “They hunger endlessly, haunted by the soul they lack.”
“But I can control them,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “What you work towards is horrendous.”
“Raleigh, son, you must understand that sacrifice is sometimes necessary-”
My blade thrust through my father’s chest. His eyes went wide and then darkened before a deep sadness crossed over them. My eyes must have mirrored his, as a sheen of tears made the world go blurry.
“Raleigh…” my father murmured, coughing up blood.
I pulled my sword from his chest and caught him as he fell forward. “I didn’t want to do this.”
I brought my father’s body to the floor. My father blinked a couple more times, disbelief crossing over into betrayal. Then everything stilled in the way a person’s body shouldn’t. In the end, my father’s corpse stared at me with betrayal for eternity.
Fitting.
I closed my father’s eyes as the floor filled with his blood. I stared at his corpse for a time ranging from seconds to thousands of years. I couldn’t tell you. My chest hurt and I wondered how much pain my father had felt.
Then the whispers started.
Set me free.
Please, just make it end.
I’m so tired. It hurts.
I held my head to try and make the intrusive thoughts stop. What ailment was this? Tears burned in my eyes but paused as my mind became overwhelmed with thoughts that weren’t mine.
Footsteps distracted me from the crying women in my mind. The door opened and my mother appeared with two mugs in her hands.
The mugs crashed to the floor. A scream and damnation. What have you done?
I blinked open my eyes, feeling feverish from the memory. I would head to the east and come face to face with the monsters my father had created. Who created them in his legacy? But it didn’t matter. I already knew the ending.
The Dark King will reign upon the remnants of innocence.
Upon his blade, the blood of the unworthy rests.
No one will walk beside him. His road is his alone.
The end of his love rests on the tip of his sword.
All who oppose him will fall, good or bad.
Until all that remains is his shadow upon the land.
Next Weeks Writing Prompt:
Themes: Sliver of hope, Chaos, Hero
Subject: Something broken
Random Element: A good friend.
How did you all enjoy this weeks writing prompt? I had a lot of fun with it. I feel like this story is somewhat outside of my usual style. I’m not entirely sure I hit all of the elements properly, but at the very least every element inspired the story. I also think this story is kind of open ended, it seems like the beginning of something bigger. (If you’re interested in me continuing this story, please let me know!)
Please post links to the stories you made in the comments or in the subscriber chat I have dedicated to this prompt (@ me in notes or in the post and I will be able to find your story as well). I can’t wait to see what you’ve all come up with. If you would like to suggest a random element for next week, please leave that in the comments as well!
If you liked my short story consider taking a look at the other short stories I have on Substack: Short Story Collection
I also have been posting poetry on here, consider checking out: Becoming Human
I blog about mental health if you are curious about that: Maladaptive Daydreaming
If you think a girl resurrected from the dead trying to seduce the god of the underworld sounds fun, consider checking out: The Mark of Death a novella/serialized novel.