The Blood King

The Ice Queen - Ch. 1 Preview

Cassian

1491 A.D.

When you open your history books and see the horrors that make up that past, it's easy to ask, "How could anyone do this?" And yet, it has already happened. It has happened over and over again, repeating itself as if learning isn't possible for the course of history. It is doomed to repeat itself in numerous ways as it did with me and Neytiri.

Generations of war beget strained relations, and the smallest of nudges toward the edge set off another repeat of history. Ikniri killing Dragonborn and Dragonborn killing Ikniri. Until there was barely any left.

I once had everything. I had a kingdom, a culture, a family... a home. But it was taken from me sending me into a spiral of destruction and hatred, hellbent on getting the revenge I believed I so rightfully deserved. I am the last of my line, and one of the few left of my people. I am the king of an endangered race, the legacy of the Dragonborn fading into the tattered pages of history. Now all that remains of us is my legacy. And it is a bloody one.

"Your majesty, they have arrived."

Ulric calls to me from the doorway but I can only keep my eyes focused on the distance. The mountains. It is the only place I did not take. It is the only place safe from my wrath. It is the mountainside that belongs to the race of people that wiped out my own. And yet, they live and breathe... because of her.

The world's "last hope". Now, her body rests there entombed in a bed of ice because of me.

"Your Majesty."

Ulric's insistent tone pulls me out of my trance and I turn away from the window to face him. It's been a year since Neytiri and I clashed swords. A year since my own men turned on me to follow her. With her out of the way, unleashing my wrath on the world has been easy. But I no longer feel as I once did; I feel empty. My wrath and vengeance have come with no satisfaction as they once did, her dying words plaguing me like a disease as of late, they are all I can think of, sucking every possibility of joy from me.

I turn away from the window to look where Ulric stands.

"Bring them in."

Ulric bows before moving toward the open archway signaling for my guests to enter. I silently take my seat, my gaze level as I watch the last leaders of their clans step in. Hynden and Xander. They both bow immediately.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

Their voices ring out in unison as they speak. Uncertainty hangs in the air as I stand. I can see by their expressions and demeanor they are uncertain of my motives in summoning them here. My mood since the death of Neytiri has been anything but manageable. Even the castle I took over is empty and cold, fear hanging in the air.

"I'm leaving."

Silence hangs in the air, both of them still uneasy about speaking in my presence. Thankfully, Hynden is the first to step forward.

"What exactly do you mean by 'leaving'? You can't just disappear, you are our king, you are supposed to lead us. You have no heirs are you just going to leave us alone to die?"

I shake my head.

"I am leaving this part of me behind. I will go into hibernation for a few years and let the world heal without me. When I re-emerge, I shall find a new place for us... A new path."

Dragonborn can live to be thousands of years old. In the olden days, some dragonborn would never shift out of their dragon form, allowing them to hibernate for centuries. The idea of this is the only thing that can give me peace as of late.