Key To A Goblin's Heart

We had won the war this time. 

It was some years after the fatal incident that had killed my fellow soldiers and had scarred me for life. The aftermath was more devastating that I can ever imagine. Not a single soul survived that day, only I did and I had often wondered why that was. Maybe, my destiny was to die that day, but by some miraculous turn of events, I was alive. 

If I had not been forced into drinking, if I remained sober despite everyone's insistance, maybe I would not have left the party early. I was determined to stay till the end….and maybe help the drunks get back to the tent. What would have happened if I had stayed? I would surely have identified the smell that offsets the release of thr poison. I could have foreworn my colleagues, maybe even help them rush off towards the tent, away from the smoke. 

Atleast, I could have saved a few lives. But now, I was alone and everyone else were….dead. I couldn't help but blame myself for their demise, and maybe it's the survivor's guilt, but that event had been the waking nightmare in my life. It changed my perspective towards war in general, and I was determined to avenge the souls that were killed in such a treacherous manner. 

I had often heard that the Queen Mafhaelore is an honourable woman, but I snorted at the thought now. What kind of honour can there be, in killing a thousand drunk soldiers in the middle of their revelry, that too not by direct combat. The worst thing to die was in this way, unable to defend oneself against the attacking force and being forced to give in without a fight. I think they would have preferred to die in the battlefield any day. 

Anyway, the worst was obvious the fate of mine. The single, lone survivor…. I couldn't possibly go to the Western front alone, devoid of my companions and I didn't have it in me to dispatch the news to them. They would know, sooner or later and I don't think anyone's going to miss my presence. In fact, if I went there alone….it would only arouse suspicions against me, and they might even think that I was the one who had poisoned them. No, that can't be. I had to flee.

Somehow, my father's disappointed voice resounded in my ears. 

"You have failed me son." He said gravely, " you didn't obey my commands, you let yourself loose and got drunk. If only you were stern enough, maybe you could have saved these lives. Their blood is on your hands too."

I closed my ears with my hands, trying to obscure the sound that was originally coming from my mind. I know it wasn't my fault, but it was hard to believe it after seeing so many bodies sprawled head down on the floor. They reminded me of my mother's corpse, her last words, "Run" before she had collapsed on the ground, bleeding from the wound in her heart.

I had done a thousand acts that might be considered as evil, throughout my life. Some of them, I was forced to while the others were the ones that I had done quite wilfully. But, I had never committed a single act of cowardice. No one who knew me shall ever call me a coward, I may be a monster but I am not a fearful one. 

But that day, I did the worst thing in my life. I became a coward, and fled from the scene of slaughter…. taking the best horse with me and all the supplies that I could gather from the tents. I had stolen from the dead, even though I had no right to be alive. I should have shared their fate, if only…

But, it doesn't do to dwell in the past. This past, however always haunted me. Whatever I did in my life, somehow this event had a correlation to it. I hated myself for staying alive, I grew bitter and emotionless... maybe even cold because my heart couldn't tolerate any more pain. My whole life, I had been subjected to torture and pain, I had not known a moment of peace until the day I joined the squad. They were my friends, my support system and now they were all gone. I was yet again an orphan boy, whom no one cared about. 

It took me a lot of time to get over all these. That was the time I dabbled in the Dark Arts, searching for a meaningful life, atleast something to hold onto and make me move on. I had nightmares every night, and I took to concoting the dreamless serum that I eventually got addicted to. Dark Arts were fascinating, and for a long time they had kept me apart from the darkness inside of me, or maybe they could have fueled it further. I cannot know…. I might have even turned out to be a completely different person than I am, if that event had not occured.

It is well known how my stint with the Dark Arts ended, thanks to Donald. I didn't want to be him and so I slowly withdrew. The knowledge was still deep inside me, I was more powerful than ever and I could now tame the most vicious animals...as well as fight any magical creature. Everyone attributed it to my talents, that had grown magnanimously by the time I rejoined the army. 

I was a lot better this time. We won war after war, I secretly manipulated a lot of them through my powers and somehow the successes were eventually distilled down to me. It was a good year for Arphoelus, and for me... because I was finally made the General. 

Almost everyone knew me now, and praised my skills voraciously. They had read about the youngest Arphoelian general of a platoon, and they all wanted to meet me. I knew there were people who were jealous, who wanted to know the story of my success, who had wondered how a simple orphan boy could have rose to such great heights. The answer was simple. My success was the direct result of the agony that I had faced for so many years. 

And, finally I was destined to meet the King. It was a huge day for me….one that I had been looking forward to for a really long time. I was no longer a young naive teenager, and I wasn't afraid of my destiny anymore. More than ever, I believed in the words of my mother. 

"You'll be the King one day, Magnus! You are his first-born afterall." She used to say. 

I feared the word, "King". It seemed as foreign to me as the land of fairies. I didn't want to be the King then, the very thought of managing the whole country would scare me. But my mother was firm, and she reiterated her belief that the throne was mine. 

And now, I was ready for the throne. I had all my plans at place, and I knew that my real father, The King, would never dispose me off. I was his valuable asset, I was his son...and I knew he would be elated to reunite with me. 

I met the King in my best attire, looking every bit of perfection. I wanted to match his magnificance in whatever way possible and I was successful too. 

He stared at me for a long time, taking in my appearance, my golden mane of hair that had grown quite long and flowed in luscious curls, the curve of my chin that so much resembled his. 

We were almost a mirror image, only he were old and years of indulgance had given his skin a shallow parchy appearance. Maybe my blooming youth and handsome face reminded him of his own. There were already rumours about us, my resemblance to the King was not left unnoticed. Maybe, he wanted to see it for himself. 

"You are only Twenty two...and a General at this age! Commendable indeed." He finally said, in a silky voice. 

I stayed my ground and only nodded, allows him to speak further. 

"Remarkably handsome, you are." He said with a smile, "rather a popular I would say. Still, you managed to be focussed and as I know….you have won every battle you have fought till date."

"Yes, Your Majesty." I said proudly. 

"So, Magnus….what is it that you want of me? Wealth, Position...ladies... anything? I would gladly give you a huge reward, in exchange of your service." He said. 

"I don't need wealth. I want recognition." I said, ready with an answer, "Father, I want to be recognised as your son."

The silence that followed was impenetrable. The tension was palpable in the atmosphere and I waited with bated breath, for an answer. 

Finally when he spoke, his voice had lost all the familiarity that it had before, "You are remarkable young man, and you have been of a great service to the country. But, how dare you utter such a profanity? Don't you know that I can behead you for such disrespect?"

I was prepared for his response, and I met his eye with the fierceness in mine. 

"You can do whatever you will,l with me. But, that won't change the truth... I am Evelyn's son and your first-born. You already know it, don't you? Anyone can see the resemblance between us. And, if truth be spoken, I am far more capable than any other son you have, and you can't deny it. I am the true heir to the throne, and nothing you do shall ever change it. Tell me, will you wash your hands with the blood of your first-born?"

My mother's name shocked the King and he remained silent for a long time. Then, he spoke in a coarse voice, "You say that I should give you the throne. But, tell me one good reason why I should do it? Can you prove that you will be a better King than any of my successors?"

I was ready for this question too. So, I said, beaming with confidence, "Yes... I can. I will bring you Mafhaelore, and prove that I am worthy of the crown."