The time had finally arrived. The one she had been waiting for, the one who would rid her of all her sorrows. The defiant bundle squirmed in her arms. Dark, stormy, eyes gazed at her, tiny fists pummeling with the might of the gods.
The child suddenly let out a cry as the deep mellow of drums and trumpets called out the arrival of the Samrat, the Emperor of Magad. His footsteps clambered the marble floors, growing hollower as they approached the cradle.
She turned to him, beaming with pride, and brought forth the bundle with her head bowed. "My King, I present you with...your son."
He lifted the newborn cautiously and looked into his eyes. Pitch, black. For a moment, father and son stood still, encapsulated in time, each searching for answers in the other. The Samrat's perplexing grew as he swam deeper and deeper in them, trying to find the innocence, the softness, the very warmth a baby should bring. He placed the child's hand upon his.
Although the Samrat's hand was like an elephant in comparison, the child's was callous. No softness worthy of palace cushions, no tenderness to be soaked in rose water. There was a fire, a fire horrific, a fire disastrous, a murderous rage which made a bead of sweat silently befall his forehead where a birthmark of memories resided!
He shoved the bundle back into her hands, eyebrows arching furiously.
"Samrat..."
"Whose child is this", his voice was a low growl.
Her face trembled with bewilderment. She dared to meet his glare, "Samrat, this is your son and your son only! I swear of it on everything!"
The Samrat's heavy cape swept the floor as he recoiled from her graze. The child's stare burned into his back as the doors closed behind him.
The Royal Astrologer was summoned instantly. By midnight, he had analyzed and documented the child's horoscope.
"Tell me", the King whispered.
The Astrologer feared to speak.
"That is an order".
The Astrologer bowed, "You're highness, this child...has a path that will unravel with time. His destiny could either lead towards the pride of this Kingdom...or"
The mother became alarmed.
The Samrat's expression was the same. "Or what."
"This child could be the cause of the destruction of this kingdom".
YOU ARE READING
The heartless conqueror
Historical FictionCursed from birth, known as a disgrace to his father. He had to fight his 100 brothers for the throne and had a rage that not even he could conquer. "Shalt come", the old lady repeated. The girl looked at her in stunned silence. "The fire shall c...
