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An Angel Called Eternity
Lykourgos I: Duty

Lykourgos I: Duty

Lykourgos I: Duty

The Twenty-First Day of the Second Moon, 873 AD.

Anaria, Western Teleytaios, Klironomea.

Duty. The word rang through his head like the peal of a bell. Duty. Duty. Duty. He didn't know where he was, but where was he if not where he was meant to carry out his duty? Duty. That was why he'd lived, wasn't it? Duty was his mistress, and he did as she demanded. Duty. He did his best to clasp his hands around his ears, as if he could stop the word from rattling around in his mind, but his arms would not respond. His body would not respond. Duty. Duty. Duty. He just wanted it to stop, he knew he had to do his duty, he had always done his duty, what did they not all understand about that? What more did they want from him? Hadn't he done everything they'd fucking asked him to- why was he so small? Was that... father? Where- what had happened? Why did he feel so small and confused all of a sudden? Why did he feel so scared?

He didn't understand, what was happening? Why were his belongings being packed? Who was this giant man come to take him away? Why was father letting him be taken away?

He turned to his father, hoping that he would make the man go away. Father was the king, that meant he could order this big man to leave!

"Father, I don't understand? Why must I go? I want to stay with here, with Rhema and you!"

The crowned man towered over him, upper body shrouded in a veil of shadows.

"Damn your impertinence, boy! It is your duty!"

He recoiled back, as though he had been struck. For a dizzying moment it felt as though his head were spinning, but when he came to he was no longer in the royal palace. No, he knew this place... this was... he was older, wasn't he? This was-

"A message, my prince, bearing your father's sigil."

"Thank you, Ser."

He scanned the parchment, and though the squiggles and symbols appeared alien to him, he felt his body move of his own accord to bring a taut fist to his mouth in worry. He could not read what was written, but his voice carried across his chambers in Aenirhen all the same.

"My father's missive... I'm not even a man grown yet, I don't want to go to war!"

"It is your fathers hand, your Highness. It is your duty to see it done."

He gave a mental nod at those words. It had been a harsh thing to say to a child of fifteen, but Lykourgos was glad they had been said to him all the same. It had taught him much about what he needed to do in life, of what was expected of him. Wait, they had been said to him. Was this- were these memories? Was that-

His body swallowed dryly and choppily nodded.

"I understand. Marshal the forces and send out the demands. My father's will be done."

The room spun again, and suddenly Lykourgos was flooded with a sense of anger, white hot and boiling in his veins. This was the main square of Anaria. Yes, he could see it clearly. Some men said that anger clouded the mind, left one prone to impulse and rashness, but Lykourgos did not think it to be so. The fiery anger he had felt on this day burned away the fog surrounding the memory, leaving only the clear scene before him. This was the day he should have won the rebellion.

The faces of the nobles leered at him from behind his royal father, who it seemed had possessed the vision to destroy the nobility but not the spine to finish what he had started. No, he shouldn't think of father like that, he couldn't possibly have lapsed here. Father couldn't be flawed, not like this. Either way, choler quickly began to overtake him.

"THEY SHOULD ALL BE HANGED FOR WHAT THEY'VE DONE, NOT REWARDED."

"Silence, boy. Do not gainsay me."

"THEY ARE TRAITORS AND VILLAINS ALL! YOUR SON LANGUISHED IN A CELL FOR MONTHS BECAUSE OF THEM!"

His father's lip curled in anger.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY SON WITH SUCH IMPUNITY!"

The voice of his sister cut through the air, an unwelcome and yet begrudgingly needed breaker of the tension.

"I believe my brother to be overcome with emotion with the knowledge that the hostilities are at an end. I am certain he means not to insult you, father; he is of simple actions and simpler reactions."

Lykourgos glared at her before turning back to his father.

"If that is the case, then I am certain he will have no issue with apologising for his outburst."

Lykourgos did his best to swallow his pride, ignoring the continuing sneers of the nobles and the barely contained anger of the men riding by his own side. The king was still awaiting his response, and so he forced out his answer through gritted teeth.

"Of course not, father. I apologise."

The king nodded.

"Then there is no need for concern. I will put this down to the heat of battle overtaking you. Go back to Aenirhen, and care for the north. Do your duty."

His voice came out strangled with emotion, and for the briefest half-second the thought of overthrowing his father with the forces loyal to himself still in the capital, the thought of treason, entered his mind. Instead he simply swallowed thickly, and forced the wayward thoughts away.

"Yes, your Grace. I will... I will see to my duty."

He hated it. He hated that day. He should have killed the nobles then and there, those vile sycophants who had damn near broken the mind of his brother in two. He should have-

He felt himself blink without his body making the motion as he looked around, a little nauseous from the feeling of the scene changing once more. What was this? He was in a field on a road, a crossroads by the looks of things. He was with- there seemed to be an army dispersing, marching home. This could only be the place that the Coastroad met the Woodsroad, which would make this- No, not this. Please, he could handle anything else, but not this.

He felt his body bite back a sob as he stared at the apologetic prince in front of him.

"Please, Aleks."

The foreign prince shook his head sadly.

"I need to go, Lyk."

"Aleks, please. I need you here, you know I don't understand emotions and I'm- I'm feeling so much at the moment. I've killed so many people, there's so much blood on me-"

"I'm almost a man grown, Lyk, I need to go home. I need to officially become the heir to Polaeros."

"You'll return, right?"

Alekos gave him another apologetic smile.

"I need to live amongst the people I'll one day rule. I'm sorry, Lyk."

"My brother has gone mad and Lord Drytos is dead. Please don't make me go back to Aenirhen alone."

"I'm sorry, Lykourgos. It is what duty demands, for both of us."

"It can't be! I need you here with me, not hundreds and thousands of miles away!"

For a single, blissful moment, there was a soft sensation unlike any else he'd known upon his lips. Then it was gone, and the foreign princeling walked away.

"Alek-"

"We need to do our duty, Lyk. Goodbye."

He choked back bitter tears, rage and grief flooding through him as though this were the first time he was experiencing this moment, as though he had not relived it every night for a month after the fact.

"FINE THEN! I DON'T NEED YOU HERE! GO, RUN BACK TO POLAEROS, IT MATTERS NOT TO ME!"

It did, and he knew it. He knew it then and he knew it still now. No matter. What was done was done, and there could be no turning back the hands of time anymore. All he could do now was-

"YOU HAVE A DUTY TO SEE TO, AND SO HELP US WE CAN'T CARRY IT OUT FOR YOU!"

Oh. Everything had changed again. This felt familiar, more recent. He desperately tried to look away from the scene, to avoid the disappointment that he knew must no doubt be brewing in his friend at how low their prince had come. There was precious little to be gained from concentrating on this argument, but looking at all of this again made him feel... he didn't know. He didn't know how this all made him feel, but he hated it.

At least this one did not last long. He closed his eyes, and not only did his body respond to his commands, there was also no further memory awaiting its turn to torment him. A palpable sense of relief flooded through him, but it was swiftly swallowed by a rising tide of apathy born of the expelling of such a variety of strong emotions. He sank back into a chair that he barely registered as being present, then opened his eyes again.

He was sat in a room with someone else, that much was obvious. Looking around he recognised it as his old rooms in the Palace in Anaria, though everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and the windows showed nothing but an endless light-grey mist. There was a stranger in the room with him, a familiar looking thing with strange eyes. He knew he should have felt anxiety or perhaps danger with this stranger opposite him, but oddly he felt completely at ease. Well, perhaps that was just the apathy talking. The man gently pulled back the empty chair and sat not quite opposite the prince, a deep well of both sadness and apology in his eyes.

"You know you can't stay here forever."

Lykourgos nodded. This was no memory. Magic, then. Magic, or one hell of a twisted dream.

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"I know."

The man nodded.

"You can't pass on yet either."

Lykourgos sighed, the burden of the last ten years having been made fresh in his mind.

"I know."

"What do you remember of what was?"

Lykourgos looked at him with confusion.

"What was?"

"Before you fell to sleep," the man clarified, "before you came to this place."

Lykourgos nodded as if he understood what the man was asking for, as if he knew what 'this place' was supposed to be.

"I was... I was to be crowned. I was to be the king."

"You still are both of those things. The world has not forgotten you whilst you slept, Prince of the Violet. That luxury is not yours to possess."

Lykourgos turned away, grinding his teeth. He'd been stabbed. Angels, he'd been assassinated on the day of his coronation. The strange man looked at him with pity in his eyes, and Lykourgos hated it.

"I've lived my whole life at the behest of other people, Ser. I tried to claim the throne, as was asked of me, and I've died performing what was wanted of me. Isn't that enough?"

The man shook his head slowly.

"No, I'm sorry but it's not. You aren't allowed to die, not yet. I owe a debt to an old friend of mine, and as such you must live. You need to take the throne. You need to reunite Klironomea. You need to live."

"Why." The prince spat. "So your 'debts' can be fulfilled? Why can't you just let me rest? WHY WILL NO ONE JUST LET ME REST?"

The man smiled sadly at him, and the prince's eyes widened.

"Please" the word was choked out as a single sob forced itself from his throat, "don't."

"There is nothing else that will convince you. The world still needs you, Lykourgos. If I must use these words to force you to live, then I will."

The prince raised a balled fist to his mouth, and spoke through his knuckles.

"Don't say it. Please, just let me fade here. I want to live, I truly do, but not yet. Please, I just want to fade away here a little while longer. I'll come back soon, so please, say something else, anything else but that."

The strange man sighed sadly again, and there was ten seconds of silence before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry, little prince. But it is your duty."

He closed his eyes to weep, to bawl, to scream at those fucking words that had ruled and ruined his life, and then he woke up.

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"Stop it stop it STOP IT!"

He screamed his lungs raw as he shot up from where he lay, desperately trying to drown out the pealing of that bell, the thought of duty. Immediately the door burst open, and a pair of men rushed into the room. These were... these were real. This wasn't a memory. He hurriedly threw back his dustless covers and tore off his nightshirt, palming at the places he had been wounded. They were- he was healed. Scarred, yes, but healed. His chest heaved with exertion and his very being roiled with emotion, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

He was feeling so very many things right now, and it confused and scared him. He was grateful to still live, he was worried for what had become of his friends in his absence, he was ashamed of the things he had said to that strange man in the privacy of his own head, he was angry that the man had seemingly brought him back without his consent, he was happy and he was sad and he was apathetic and he was confused and he just wanted the noise to stop please stop I just want the noise to go away.

A gentle hand was lain upon his shoulder, and he didn't know whether to recoil at the burning sensation or lean into it as a pup might lean into it's mother.

"Deep breaths, my prince. Deep breaths. Can you do that?"

He shakily nodded at the voice, doing his best to regulate his breathing.

"You're safe here. You're home."

He looked around a little, confused. Home? This didn't look like Aenirhen.

Oh. It was Anaria. He supposed that his own misgivings about the city would need to be put aside for the foreseeable future. He'd be here for some time, unless something major happened. He turned up, gaining some small amount of lucidity, and locked eyes with the young man who's hand was upon his shoulder.

"Nasos?"

The presbyter nodded, giving him a watery smile.

"Yeah, it's me. You're awake, your Grace."

"Where- this is Anaria. I'm still in the capital. Has anything happened?"

Nasos gave him a stern look, equal parts worry and annoyance.

"Honestly, you're forced into a coma for almost two moons and the first thing you're worried about is work?"

Lykourgos shot further up, but was pushed gently down by the healer and the larger man to his right.

"Tw- two moons! Angels, no, there must be so much that-"

"Easy, yer 'ighness. Easy." The soft, rumbling voice of the second man reverberated across the room as he gradually and gently pushed the prince into a reclining position once more.

"Dreamwulf?"

"There's nothing that can't stand to benefit from you getting some real rest and readying yourself properly before diving into work. You ain't allowed to work until this one says so."

The bodyguard jerked his thumb towards the smaller man, who waved meekly.

"Um... well... I see."

Nasos and Dreamwulf looked at each other, letting out sighs. Exasperation or relief, he wasn't sure. Maybe both. Nasos spoke first, a tone that told of relief for more than just the waking of the prince, but for the waking of Lykourgos as well.

"I'm glad you're awake, your Grace."

"Me too. I'd be out of a job if you passed on."

Nasos glared at his friend, but softened when Lykourgos snorted at Dreamwulf's blunt joke. He took a moment to calm himself down as his healer began speaking once again.

"If you don't mind me asking, your Grace, how exactly do you feel?"

Lykourgos went silent a moment. How did he feel? That was really not something he wanted to think about at the moment. He was angry, he was sad, he was glad, and-

There was a gurgling noise as his stomach rumbled, and he smiled sheepishly up at Nasos.

"Hungry."

The man rolled his eyes at the prince and called out for a plate of food, leaving to acquire it himself when no-one came to answer.

"Should've expected that," Dreamwulf rumbled, "hardly anyone's allowed in this wing of the palace courtesy of your brother and the Master of Silver."

Lykourgos nodded, relief flooding through him at just the mention of those two names. They were all right, they were alive, and that was important. Silence reigned in the room for a little while, a not at all unwelcome respite from all the noise of the last few minutes, hours, however long those damn memories had been coming to him for.

When Nasos did return it was with a plate of the most mouthwatering food he had ever laid his eyes upon. Slices of roasted grouse on a small bed of sparrow grass formed its majority, with a small helping of grapes on the side.

"There's this as well, your Grace."

A small round object was lightly tossed towards him, which he somehow managed to catch with little problem at all. He looked at it and smiled. It was a plum. Guess I've not been gone long enough for them to forget my favourites.

He ate with gusto, washing down the plate of food with a glass of heavily watered wine. It tasted absolutely divine, and the feeling of satisfaction he got from eating his first solid food in almost two months outweighed almost any other pleasure he could think of. On that note, he looked down at his still bare chest, and poked at one of his ribs. He'd lost quite a bit of weight, it would seem. That would not do at all. There was very little loose skin, but then he'd never been particularly hefty either way. Nonetheless, as soon as he could he needed to be up and exercising his muscles once again.

For now though, he could already feel his eyes slipping shut once more. He didn't fear a return to his wakeless slumber, for this was little more than his body catching up with the rest it had missed out on, but even so he clutched at the arm of Nasos.

"You're all right, your Grace, you're all right. Go back to sleep, recover from what's happened. We'll stay here until the morning."

Lykourgos nodded tiredly, slipping away into the realms of sleep even as his friend's hand patted his shoulder. Angels help him, but he was so tired.

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"There were three ravens sat 'pon trees,

down, a down, hey down.

They were as black as black could be,

with a down, derry derry derry derry down."

His brow wrinkled as the noise carried down the corridor. Didn't these people know he was trying to sleep? And here he thought being the king meant he could be allowed a few small luxuries in the day.

"Parched and starved the six black wings,

their brother sees the death of kings,

with a down, a down hey down.

A battle lost down in the field,

for them their greatest wants would fill,

with a down, derry derry derry derry down."

Angels above, it wasn't that they were bad at singing or anything, but honestly, did they have to sing this early in the- oh. It wasn't the morning. Peeking through his barely opened eyelids revealed the darkness of the night sky, the glittering of the stars visible through wispy gaps in the grey clouds above. He couldn't make out too much through his mostly-closed eyes and his opened window, but he could see enough to know that they'd likely be in for more than a light shower by the time day broke. Oh well. He supposed there were worse noises to be lulled to sleep by. Hell, he was pretty sure he'd been sung this as a lullaby when he was a toddler, so it wasn't all bad. Besides, he was so, so tired.

"One turns then towards his mate,

'Where shall we our breakfast make?'

down, a down, hey down.

'There lies a knight slain 'neath his shield,

and none who care that he lies still.'

with a down, derry derry derry derry down."

Well, if this was the waking he was to receive come the morning then it wouldn't be all that bad. Even better would be the soft pattering of rain and the rumbling of distant thunder, sounds that seemed to bring even the great metropolis of Anaria to a standstill and allowed the waters to clean away the filth of the city for just one day. Yes, that would be rather nice.

He stood shakily from his bed, almost immediately falling backwards as his legs gave way underneath him. He wanted to look out the window properly, to enjoy the sight of the city at night, but there was no way he was going to be able to move there at this rate. He supposed he could call for someone, but he assumed that Nasos and Dreamwulf would be the only person around in this wing of the palace at these hours. Wait, Nasos and Dreamwulf, they said they'd be-

Heh, okay, that was pretty amusing. Dreamwulf and Nasos were asleep in chairs next to one another some four to six paces from the prince's bed, and seemed to have fallen into a slumber whilst leant against one another. The presbyter's head was settled on the bigger man's shoulder, who had gently rested his own head atop the presbyter's. If he wasn't so glad to see them safe, Lykourgos would have kept the information back to embarrass them, but as it stood he wasn't going to be doing that anytime soon.

The thought of his friends sent his mind afly towards his other friends. Nasos and Dreamwulf had mentioned both Elikoidi and Rhema in passing, so they were likely fine, but that still left a sizable list of things he needed to consider. Were Ilias and Romanos okay? Had Crowe been able to keep the peace in the city? Was Symon still in the city with his company or had they decided to cut their losses and move on? For that matter, had they been paid yet? Surely they must have.

Of course, how could he forget the harvests! Had the crops been sown, were their any townships or counties that had lost too many men to farm or whose fields had been razed by war? Had the armies been demobilised? Angels, there was so much for him to do.

Right, he thought to himself, first things first I meet with my retainers and advisors. I'll inquire about Symon's Starlings and the harvest there. Next I should meet with the senior representatives of the church, to ensure they'll support my reign and remain satisfied with their own little status quo. Then there's taxes, merchant complaints, docking disputes, the complete rebuilding of Anaria, the paperwork required to grant city charters to the major townships of Teleytaios... was there anything else? Was he missing anything? A brief check on border raids seemed an obvious addition to the duties he'd need to see to, but he couldn't think of anything else at the moment.

He huffed out an annoyed breath. There went that bell again. Duty. He was already doing his duty, so if that little voice in his head would kindly shut the fuck up then he'd be quite happy, thank you very much.

"The doe did lift his lifeless head,

and said unto his smile so red,

with a down, a down, hey down.

'Wherefore my hero doth thou lie,

beneath the ashen clouded shy?'

with a down, derry derry derry derry down."

He smiled softly to no-one in particular. Nasos was right; he was already thinking about work. That wasn't right of him, not when that would only lead to further complications in the future. He needed to regain his strength and his energy if he was to lead his people as they deserved to be led, and by the Angels did they need to be led at the moment. He may not have received a report or anything of the like on the state of his kingdom yet, but he did know the chaos that an absent ruler could cause; he'd seen it more than once in foreign nations, and never had it received a particularly happy ending.

No. No more thought on this matter, not right now. At the moment he was going to sleep until the morning came, he was going to eat some bloody good food, and he was going to see all his friends who would, probably, be more than a little relieved to know he was okay. He settled back down under the covers. The coming weeks promised to be busy indeed; it would be best to get some rest while he could.

There was one other thing he needed to do, however.

He needed to know how the entombed man had gotten inside of his head.