Chapter Text
To kill an heir to the throne, the decision must be certain and the reasoning drastic, but to kill your own son, you must have your soul torn from you the way that very son was ripped from the arms of his mother.
"Mother..." The sound of terror in the boy's voice, the pleading, could have sent tears down the faces of those in hell.
"Eris, stay with the king!". Eris wakes up panting, gripping her chest as she calms down slowly.
Three knocks on the door, Kings guard. "The ceremony is in an hour, your grace.". Ceremony.
The misuse of the word leaves a near bitter taste in her tongue. "Thank you, Ser Gerald," she says loudly enough for him to hear through the door.
The walk down the great hall is quiet as she watches the servants paint the prince out of the family portraits, remove his portraits from the walls, and remove his face from the family.
She stares at the paintings yet to be touched, the ones of her and her sons. the eldest only a child while the other an infant in her arms.
She forces her gaze forward towards the castle doors where her husband
The king and the prince and princess are standing, awaiting her arrival.
the prince's neck red and covered and ugly black stitches.
Her guilt flees from her, but like a moth to a flame, her rage forms deep within her. He did this.
"Eris," the king speaks with disdain, "are you ready?". "Yes.".
"Open the gates!" The giant doors begin to open, sunlight shining in and reflecting off the golden walls, blinding the queen.
With the doors fully open, her vision returns.
She looks out onto the bridge lined with civilians all bowing their heads to the king.
At the very end of the bridge is the prince standing on gallows with a rope around his neck.
The king begins to walk down the bridge, people bowing their heads, too scared to look up.
She doesn't remember the long walk down the bridge; she doesn't remember how she ended up standing on the gallows.
All she knows is that she's staring at her son; his right eye is mutilated, his other is already lifeless despite the box under his feet is yet to be kicked out from under him.
She stares at his right eye, or what once used to be his right eye.
I did this. She feels sick satisfaction swarm in her stomach.
The younger prince stands in front of her, pressed against her legs as she has her arms possessively wrapped around his chest.
"The man you see before you is no prince or future king of Sunlands!"
The king stands at a podium speaking to the entire empire.
Eris can't recount what he said or how he justified killing the prince; all she remembers is the sound her son's neck made when it cracked.