Dust and Ashes ( Fan Fiction of Who Made Me A Princess)

Chapter 41 : She is the Legacy

[3rd POV]

The birds flapped far to the mountain
As the wind blew sun and the dried rain
Red daisy bloomed and the leaves were brown
Where should we come?
Where should we go?
We're going home
In harvest and glory mount
We are home.

Sparkled in grey, the sky was heavied by grieve. It was a weary night as ever, most bad and eerie thoughts were darted each own mind; each own expression. The ground was still tainted by some amount of blood in every inch, the soil was cracked in some spots and the grasses was scorched in grey. Athanasia stood steadily, swords hung on her right hand, splattered with blood and anger that has grown her heart into wrath. Some faces welcomed her in awful look, terrified enough as she stopped and mocked the flock.

"Only them?"

"Yes, Your Highness, the rest of them have been captured by our wizards and have been brought to the tower earlier."

"How many death?"

"Tens or so."

The man walked rushedly to follow the Princess, her armour though it has been dyed by blood still gleamed under the moonlight stream. She could still remembered correctly that here was where she swayed her swords up and they fell down one by one. She could still remembered it was the time when she thought it must be their victory so she let her guard down and Aethernitas shot her an attack. She remembered correctly here was where she has Derian on her lap, saying her a farewell and he closed his eyes in final. She has tried to help, both with Lucas, they infused their mana to seal the wound, but it was spreading faster than they thought. They lost Derian mere seconds after he just being attacked and now it hurt the most as their last time never be enough to be a farewell.

It was one and worst time in Athanasia's life after she was being left by Claude and now she was loosing her friends. It was as worst as ever, as she knew that tears won't brought anyone back but she still cried. She could only shook the man's shoulder, hoping that it was just one of the prank Derian usually did. Hoping that it was just her missheard that there weren't any thump in his chest and he was as silent as the ground. But no matter how hard she tried to make Derian answered her back, it was only an uttered silence which she heard and she chocked by that though.

"Let's just head back. I don't want to see this pathetic thing anymore."

"Aye, Your Highness. Want me to prepare the horse?"

"Yes, prepare one."

It was most quiet flock as ever, since there wouldn't be any laughs upon their friends's death. Since there weren't any jokes they usually threw each other as they went to the war and the triumph's song on their won.

The night was frosted in cold. The tip of the trees both with the palace's were seen far beneath the darkness. The gate was opened in awareness; It was too bad that people welcomed them in cheering, maids threw them the flowers, shouted their name in jubilation as if they were a hero. There were many hands which tried to reach them, tried their best to fit them in a hug or even just to force them to wave their back or so. There were also many shouts and yells, didn't know it was from them or from the deepest of her heart that already in sore.

The troop was only walking on its quiet, with some of closed horse carriages wrapped in their deep agony. While one of them, in the most nearly Athanasia could ever placed, was laid a cold unbreathed body in the best silver suit she could possibly cleaned, a body she wouldn't ever want to recognize.

"Your Highness, I could clean the crowd if it bothers you."

"No need, they don't do any wrong. Just finish this quickly so all of us could rest."