Resistance

The woman in rags outside the temple spoke in a hushed voice as I strode by. "You are not safe anymore". I could hear the horror in her whisper. I am not safe here anymore. I believe that I'm never going to be safe again. Wherever I go the horror of the mad king will spread. That's how I came to be here in the first place. A different king but from the same psychotic family.

I was born a couple of paces down the cobble stone street to my left. In the King's Prison. My mother, however was not. She is a priestess from the cold, sparse cliffs of Aeldis, miles from this sewer the southerners call a capital. She came here as a prisoner of war. She has never held an axe, knife or a sword and the bare thought of her fighting seems absurd. Sure, she was in the resistance and so was my father, bless his soul. He was the one with the sword and the lectures on freedom and prosperity. My mother tended to the wounded and prayed. She prayed even as they dragged her away from my father's mutilated body. They tortured her for information, even though she was heavy with child. They killed her sons, my brothers, to put an end to our fight. They would have killed me to if I was born with a different set of reproductive organs. Apparently, females can't fight. I will make them realize that mistake.

Today, the new king will wear the crown. He is even worse than his grandfather who in his final years waged war on my people. Freedom is a word kings cannot bear to hear. I guess that's why they hate us so much. His son promised peace. That was before he died suddenly on hunting trip. Oh, to think what might have been. Now madness and cruelty rules us yet again.

The bells atop the temple mark the beginning of the ceremony. I have to go into hiding. When the bells toll again, I will be hunted.