The King's Little One

Song: Angel with a shotgun, By the Cab.

Three’d person POV.

The smell of smoke and blood filled his nose as he took in the battle sight before him. He the King of Endra has started many wars... but not this one, this is not on him. Five of the kingdoms in Zloa banded together in an attempt to take him down, him an immortal King. A useless waste of life if you ask him.

In the land of Zloa, there are seven Kingdoms, The Kingdom of Erda (End-err-ah) the strongest and deadliest, next is The Kingdom of Drekyne (Der-rah-ken) the second strongest and close ally of Endra. Next comes the five Kingdoms dumb enough to challenge the Kingdom of Endra, Ligo (Lynn- go), Sherken (Shear-ken), Baklo (Bak-low), Tipu (To-Pou), and Gilopa (Gil-op-ah).

These are the power-hungry Kingdoms with Kings who have envied and feared the King of Endra for centuries. You see all the Kings are immortal beings, they do not age, and are more powerful than a regular man, with special powers based on their personalities and lands, they are the immortal protectors of their lands. However, even with their immortality, they still can be killed by another king more powerful than them, that is a lesson the king of Ligo, and Baklo learned the hard way.

Now as the King of Endra stands in the rubble of what once was Ligo’s capital, the horns of surrender are sounded from the remaining three kingdoms. It took the complete destruction of two kingdoms and the deaths of their centuries-old Kings for them to realize their mistake. Shaking his head the King continued to walk through the ash and burning corpses, the blood of the fallen King of Ligo dripping from his hands.

Just as he was about to turn and return to his men the scent of lavender caught his attention, immediately he began to search the ruins for the source of beauty in the endless death he had inflicted that night. He marched through a cloud of smoke and froze at the sight on the other side.

There, sitting in the ash of what used to be a beautiful house sat a girl no older than ten holding the body of her mother, with tears streaming down her face she sang a soft death lullaby to say goodbye.

“May you go in peace,

May you see the Sun, may it welcome you with open arms,

From a land of war, you have come,

But a land of peace you will go,

May we meet again in another life...

The young girl trailed off as tears silently racked through her small body.

The King quickly wiped as much blood as he could from his hands before calling out to her. “Little one?” The King softly called.

The girls head snapped up in his direction, her face paled when she looked at the imposing King dripping in blood. With jerky movements, she scrambled to her feet gripping a broken piece of glass in her small hand. “Stay away from my mommy!” She rasped, the smoke and ash had caused her throat to become raw. ” Haven’t you bad men hurt her enough?!” Her small frame shook as she coughed up more smoke into the dark night.

“Who hurt your mommy?” The King asked gently, already knowing the answer.

“The men with swords, sword like yours,” The hand that wasn’t gripping the glass pointed to the Kings sword mortifer (Mort-e-fer) hanging at his side named after The Bringer of Death.

“Nobody has a sword like mine Little one,” The King told her as he slowly moved closer to the frightened girl.

“Don’t come any closer!” She yelled as loud as she could with her hoarse voice.

“I’m not going to hurt you or your mommy Little one,” The King coaxed her gently.

“Then why are you covered in blood?” The girl asked, her eyes squinting at him showing her distrust.

“Because I killed the bad men, it is safe now Little one,” The King motioned for her to lower her piece of glass. The young girl looked into the Kings dark green eyes, looking for any reason not to trust him. He seemed nice and he said he killed the bad men, why shouldn’t she trust him? After all, she had no one else left. No one to miss her if she was wrong.

With a shaky breath blown from her ash covered lips, she was about to lower her glass piece when a thought struck her. “You have to help me bury her!” The small girl begged, her large cornflower blue eyes were wide with tears as she looked up at the King. “Please?” She croaked.

“Of course, Little one,” The King answered as he closed the gap between them, in one swift motion he swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to sob. The King simply held her tight as she cried for her mother whose body lay in the ash at their feet, her father who fell in battle at the hands of one of the King’s soldiers, and the people she had seen in her city everyday of her life. The King was there for her as she cried for their deaths.

The young girl lead the King through the rubble of what once was her home and towards to lush forests just beyond the city. The King carried the body of the girl’s mother to a field of lavender, where they buried her together, by her favorite bush of flowers.

The king gathered the young girl in his strong arms and began walking back to his men. “You are very strong, Little one,” The King said, wiping the last of the tears from her face.

“I am?” She asked softly, nuzzling her head against his chest.

“Very my Little one,” He assured her, rubbing his hands up and down her back, hoping for her to fall asleep before they reached his men.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before her soft voice floated through the night. “Where are we going?” she asked shifting in his arms so she could look at his face.

“To my Kingdom, Little one,” The Kings deep voice rumbled.

“Your Kingdom?” The girl asked as her eyes widened in realization.

The Kings deep chuckle filled the quiet night air. “Yes Little one my Kingdom, I am King Dante of Endra,” Pride surged through the King’s voice as he told the girl who he was.

“You’re a King?!” The girl gasped looking up at his strong face.

“Yes, and you are my Little Phoenix, for I found you in the ashes and from there I will help you will rise,” The King paused his walking to look deep into her eyes, to make sure she knew that she was now his.

“Your’s...” She whispered to herself.

“Yes, mine,” The King nodded and continued on his trek. “So tell me little one, what is your name? If we are to be friends I will need to know,” He smiled down at her tired face. He wanted to know before she fell asleep, and if he didn’t find out now, he would have to wait hours to know the name of his Little one.

“Oynx,” She mumbled sleepily as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, falling into a deep sleep.

“Oynx,” He breathed into the night air, as she drifted off to sleep.