The Rise of True Blood

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Chapter 12: The Right Decision

Shall I move the story forward with one of the most disagreeable facts that have revolved within the premises of my very existence?

Let it be so, for indeed, I never gained the unvoiced title of being the ‘favoured’ prince.

The beauty of Atlantrice which once held a lot of dreams in my eyes as a child, gradually lost its bewitching effect when I chose to search for answers behind the sparkling gold. It was no wonder, I grew an immense hatred towards the very charm I had once been so proud of.

The more I found myself to be surrounded by the specimens of dazzling enchantment, the more I couldn’t ignore the burning flame of truth. How could I ever forget?

It was built on the blood and bones of the undesirable. The unchosen.

Since eternity, the Royals had paid dearly to be allowed to breathe.

I knew not myself capable of hoarding desires to save Atlantrice. If there had been any at all, their life ended with the breath of my brother. Similarly, I had lived far beyond the point of having an infatuation with the future. The affairs of the states did appear interesting, it would be unfair to deny. But I could never envision myself bent down over maps and scrolls with a crown upon my head, for the rest of my days or— until we found another chosen one. It would be a task unachievable to defy the laws of the kingdom and to fight Atlantrice if I were to give up the throne, for there was no successor to be wilfully accepted by the aggravated land. And so, as much appalled as I was, there wasn’t an option but to continue further down the path. My father, of course, couldn’t quieten his concerns about the future of his people, and I didn’t have the heart to make him reminisce all the sacrifices.

Nonetheless, I had to do something. Even if it meant ultimate destruction.

There had never been any other choice. One of us had to do it.

“Father, I am going to use my authority as King, and ask you to follow my orders without delay. You may not agree with my plans. I know it is quite selfish, but I do not expect your approval. Rather, at this moment, I require your support. I need you, as a father, to believe in your son.”

His feet drew closer. And in a voice undeniably hollow, he asked.

“Do you feel it, the right decision?”

“Yes, I do.”

He nodded. Slowly. As if reminiscing the death of his beloved wife.

And then, he voiced out a final reply.

“I pray, the odds be in your favour.”

(To be continued)

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