Long Live the Boy-King

Chapter 21: Admit It

Author's Note: Thank you for tuning in to this story's update despite all the irregularities in my posting time. I've been so busy with schoolwork and I have been struggling with new ideas for this story. So, again, I apologize for that. I have more things to say so if you're interested, please read the author's note at the end of this chapter. Anyway, here is the twenty-first chapter. I still do not own Game of Thrones!

Long Live the Boy-King

Chapter 21: Admit It

Dark sky, sweaty troops, bloody stones, and flesh. Flesh everywhere left by the bodies of a hundred men, scarred by honor, innocence, and cruelty. I never asked for this war or anyone to get hurt in general. All I wanted was her. All I wanted was her love and loyalty. She gave me all of that, made me happy, made me feel complete. But they were against us. The monsters wanted to separate us, wanted to have her for themselves. I can't let that happen. They drew their swords, raised their shields, paraded into my land and caused chaos. I had to fight back even if it means my own death. They lost. One thousand of us against ten thousand of them yet they still surrendered to my blade. "Mercy my Lord," the wounded man begged as I take a step in front of his half-dead being. He bled through his armor and every inch of his skin was blotted with bruises. He spat red blood more than his pleads. His eyes filled with tears that rolled down his grimy cheeks dusty from ashes caused by the fire and torches. "Mercy, my Lord. Have mercy on me." He choked back his fear building up on his throat, making his face paler. "I have children, my Lord. Have mercy, please!" Then he screamed so loud, it pierced through the dark and quiet afternoon. Have mercy? For a moment I forgot what it meant, how emotions work, how a life of a possibly innocent man be ruined by a lovesick Lord. I raised my sword above my head, ready to strike at the terrified man, twice my age. My conscience came in too late. I've already beheaded the man before my senses dawned on me but I can't give back what I already took. The man is already dead.

"Lorcan!" a shrill voice called out to me.

Lorcan's Point of View

"Lorcan!" I woke with a start, almost gasping at the loud voice of my father mixed with rapid and heavy knocks on my door. "Lorcan! Open the door." Groaning, I decided to sit up, fixed my robes and finally made my way to open the door.

"What do you want?" I said groggily at Father who looked quite distracted. He always does but his face looks more problematic today. "What? It's too early for you to be bothering me, Father," I murmured only to myself before letting Father in.

His heavy strides pounded on the insides of my ears. This surely calls for a headache, a bad migraine. "First of all, it's already nearing midday." The thought of me oversleeping seems a little bit bizarre. I rarely miss the break of dawn. My nightmare, the one I've been trying to repress but never seem to, must be another factor for my prolonged slumber. "And secondly," Father started. "I am your father and I can bother you whenever I please," he said in an unreadable manner. Father's tone can be a bit confusing sometimes. I can't tell if he's stern or sarcastic. Sometimes it's a mixture of both. I rolled my eyes at him as he entered not knowing he saw my gesture. "My, my. Are you in the midst of your bleeding? Unless you're a horrid and moody Lady, don't ever roll your eyes." I ignored his remark and proceeded to pour some water to wake myself up. Wine would be impractical especially when my stomach's grumbling. "I received this earlier today." I put my goblet down as Father handed me a rolled up parchment. I took it in my fingers and examined the broken seal. Rosby, it indicated. I let my thumb and forefinger run through the waxy seal, feeling each crack and depression engraved in it. It feels like months since I've been back home when, in fact, it has just been a week. I have to admit the extravagance brought by the city of King's Landing has been a delight but the quiet land of Rosby is easy to miss. Here, parties and loudness is part of King's Landing's everyday life that it became a necessity as opposed to Rosby's sentient and quieter living.