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The Will of the Gods
“Dream on, little dreamer,” I said as I kissed Atique’s forehead.
I prayed that things were better in his dreams, that he rode horses and played with fairies in a land of his own. Reality was getting darker every day. Three weeks had passed since the lockdown began. Outside the window, I could see the fires on the city walls and hear faint shouts outside if I strained my ears.
Things seemed to get worse every day. The room got dirtier every day and the servants stopped coming after the first week. The meals got smaller every week. Lack of supplies, they said. Preposterous! How was I supposed to feed my child with only two plates of bread for every meal? To top it all off, last night, Huruk had ridden off to the city gates with his army to fight the rebels.
“If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, you must take Atique and leave for your father’s palace,” he had said.
“Trust no one, except my royal guard,” he had said.
I was yet to hear from him. The guards were absent today as well. Everyone seemed to resent me and Atique. How could they hate a sweet little child? A heavy banging on the door alerted me. Clutching the dagger in my hand, I walked towards the door, ready to strike if the wrong face presented itself.
“Oh, I am sorry miss, I was told I could find some decent food and company in this room,” Huruk said, with a mischievous smile.
I couldn’t contain my tears. I dropped the dagger and hugged him hard.
“What of the attackers?” I asked.
“What of them? They were drawn up and quartered, the whole lot. Bah! Protesting against high taxes! How are we responsible for their starving children!” he said, with an angry look on his face.
I couldn’t agree more. How was their starving children our responsibility? The famine was the will of the gods. We, the Chosen Ones, had no authority to question the will of the gods. Our duty was only to rule the land, nothing more.
© Shine_Ali
I prayed that things were better in his dreams, that he rode horses and played with fairies in a land of his own. Reality was getting darker every day. Three weeks had passed since the lockdown began. Outside the window, I could see the fires on the city walls and hear faint shouts outside if I strained my ears.
Things seemed to get worse every day. The room got dirtier every day and the servants stopped coming after the first week. The meals got smaller every week. Lack of supplies, they said. Preposterous! How was I supposed to feed my child with only two plates of bread for every meal? To top it all off, last night, Huruk had ridden off to the city gates with his army to fight the rebels.
“If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, you must take Atique and leave for your father’s palace,” he had said.
“Trust no one, except my royal guard,” he had said.
I was yet to hear from him. The guards were absent today as well. Everyone seemed to resent me and Atique. How could they hate a sweet little child? A heavy banging on the door alerted me. Clutching the dagger in my hand, I walked towards the door, ready to strike if the wrong face presented itself.
“Oh, I am sorry miss, I was told I could find some decent food and company in this room,” Huruk said, with a mischievous smile.
I couldn’t contain my tears. I dropped the dagger and hugged him hard.
“What of the attackers?” I asked.
“What of them? They were drawn up and quartered, the whole lot. Bah! Protesting against high taxes! How are we responsible for their starving children!” he said, with an angry look on his face.
I couldn’t agree more. How was their starving children our responsibility? The famine was the will of the gods. We, the Chosen Ones, had no authority to question the will of the gods. Our duty was only to rule the land, nothing more.
© Shine_Ali
