The Last Legacy

Chapter 5: The Brave and the Bold

You know when you are that stooge being protected from the damage of the world that potentially will glue and stick with you for the rest of your growth? Like some sort of darkness just lingering for its opportunity to clob and attach itself on your birthmark and drain your sorrow until you have nothing else left?
You know the time when you are that little girl in the middle of the mist, and you feel like the uttermost useless, and most remarkably fragile and broken force that ever existed?

You see the nation getting collided by outsiders and you can't do anything but sit on the sidelines awaiting for your turn. For the rest to strike, as others take the bait and fall on our feet.
Mourning and losing is a part of life, my mother always said. She warned me not to listen to my father and his heinous concepts. But my mother was anything but acceptable. I like to think she made her own bed. She helped aid those in battle and just like them, she failed at her own very game.
I never understood where her loyalties lied. It's like she had one foot inside Niflheim and the other with the outsiders. The King loved her, nevertheless.
He had to.
There wasn't much that he could do. You are bound for life with your partner, after all. He didn't love her, and she didn't love him. Jonas and I were just pawns made out of enmity and animosity. But that was enough for father, but not quite enough for mother.

She tried her whole life to control and oversight my every move. She foresaw the twilight growing inside of me.
And she was afraid.
Afraid that she couldn't control me the way she thought she could. And what they don't seem to know how to control; they seek to destroy. Unfortunately, it's going to take more than pills to keep me in check.
Let's face all of the facts; and then you can know how fucked up the world really can be. It all began with Jax's dearest father; King Maddox. After the fallen of the latter, my father was chosen out of a series of candidates. He fought for his right in the eleventh tournament of Power; and he slaughtered them all. There was no force able to stop him.
His power was beyond comprehension; and he was granted the iron throne. Not many winners get to have that reward. Though, it wouldn't come much of a surprise. My father being born in Hel and serving as Maddox's right hand; the throne was up and calling for his name.

And that's when everything went to utter shit once again. Queen Alexandra (yeah, that's my predecessor), served with the greatest pact of allegiance and faith. She practiced conveying her hope into other soldiers and mercenaries in our realm. She was completely light...and my father was the opposite. And just like fire and ice; they were perfect for each other...seemingly. And that's when the Queen conceived their first born; Jonas Greyrose. Initially trained to be Red Devil's mighty warrior, Jonas was disciplined to slaughter at the age of four. His first kill was his pet hound. Father made him put a bullet through his capitulum...it marked Jonas for his entire life. That's what mother thought, at least.

She would talk about my father's devilish ways and how he perceived the world in the most vicious ways. But the world was already an ugly place; we were just here to put order in it and to restore its light back to it.
Even if part of us wasn't brought completely from the latter. I was born secondly a few years after that, and Jonas was everything I aspired to be; relentless, potent, compelling, persuasive and substantial. Father favored him out of all his candidates, and the Citadel knew it. But it did not matter because Jonas did everything the Citadel asked and made no questions about it. He was already a fighter and he did not need a tournament to prove otherwise. The Citadel even considered not having the event at all and downright choosing him. Nevertheless, the contest took place and Jonas yearned for the win. You could see it right in the face of his opponents; they were afraid of him.
I remember sitting on the cathedra boards and chanting his name with thousands while I watched everything on the colossal station. The air was breeze and crispy; and the roars were louder every time.