The Weight He Chose

“My dear, why must you be so busy all the time? Surely the kingdom will go on without you for one day.”

Sebastian sighs, falling back into his chair. The wood creaks as the plush lining supports him.

“Mira, I don’t have time for this.”

“Do you ever have time recently, hmm?” Mira steps silently to his side, brushing locks from her face, her nightgown whispering across the floor. “Come on, sweetie. You don’t want to play?”

“Mira, ple—”

“Shush.” She presses a finger to his lips. “You’ve been an important king all day. Now spend some time with your queen.”

Sebastian jumps to his feet, pressing his fingers against his eyelids.

“Not… just… not now.” He snaps, rubbing his forehead.

Mira doesn’t respond, but he can feel her eyes on the back of his head. He always can.

Sebastian pulls the door open and rushes down the corridor. The darkness of the palace always feels worse on nights like this. When she waits for him. For all the love he still carries for her, he cannot bear it sometimes.

“My king!” a voice calls, followed by hurried footsteps. The guard bows. “Sire, I thought you had retired for the night. Are you okay?”

Sebastian’s eyes pass over the boy. “Smithson, isn’t it?”

“Y—Yes, sire.”

“What have you heard of the blockade?” Sebastian groans, slowing his pace as he pulls open a door and steps onto a balcony.

“Heard? Um… sire, I know of the losses.” Smithson’s face falls as his eyes follow Sebastian’s out toward the sea. “My brother sailed out in spring. A couple of months back. He sends letters to me and my mother. He says it’s… it’s—”

“It’s alright, boy,” Sebastian mutters, taking a slow breath. “You can speak freely.”

“Yes, sire. Thank you, sire.” He swallows. “What he says… it’s horrible. Imperial cannons that shatter entire ships. Their line keeps advancing. We’re losing land and—”

Sebastian raises a hand.

“Your brother is a brave man.”

Smithson nods.

“It is bad out there,” Sebastian sighs. “I will do my best as your king. Believe me, boy… you will see your brother again.” He rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, sire.”

“My king!” a familiar voice echoes from the hall.

Sebastian ignores it, turning back toward the sea.

“My king, you must return to your chambers.” An impeccably dressed butler rushes to Sebastian’s side. “Guard! Why did you not report seeing the king?”

“I… um—”

“Leave him be. I just needed a walk,” Sebastian groans, rolling his eyes as he allows himself to be guided inside.

The night passes in a blur of servants and preparation, dressing him for another day of strategy and war. All too his first duty, an unsatisfying breakfast.

“Won’t you eat something, dear?” Mira’s voice drifts across the table.

Sebastian stares at the array of fowl, eggs, and delicate breads. “Not right now, Mira.”

“Sire?” The door behind him swings open. “Are you finished, sire?”

Sebastian sighs.

“Well? Are you finished, Sebby?”

“Indeed,” he says, pushing himself to his feet.

He turns. The general stands in the doorway, worry etched across his face. Clearly, he drew the short straw.

Sebastian strides ahead as they make their way to the war room, his home for the past year. A chaotic sea of maps and reports. Men rush back and forth. Couriers arrive from the front. Pins move across charts marking the steady advance of imperial ships.

“Sire? You have a guest.” One of the bureaucrats intercepts him the moment he enters.

“A guest? I get many guests.” He squints at the exhausted man. “Barnes?”

“Rudford, sire,” he corrects nervously.

“Sorry, Rudford.” Sebastian exhales. “Who is this guest?”

“You should have just asked me,” Mira giggles, jabbing him lightly in the back.

Sebastian’s eyes flick briefly toward her before returning to Rudford.

“A soldier, sire. Ex-Imperial. We received a letter from him months ago.”

“A defector? Is it, the defector?” Sebastian’s expression brightens.

Rudford nods, gesturing toward the far chamber.

Sebastian moves before anyone can stop him.

Inside sits a lone man at a small table, clutching a wrapped package. His face is bruised, his uniform worn, his hair grown out and unkempt. He looks nothing like a polished imperial officer.

“Lieutenant Tecious. No… Marcus now, yes?” Sebastian extends a hand.

“Our key to turning the tide of the war,” Mira whispers excitedly.

“King Malguinem,” Marcus replies, bowing respectfully. Rising, he reluctantly takes the offered hand.

“He’s so nervous,” Mira giggles. “So cute.”

“It’s alright, boy,” Sebastian says, loosening his grip. “I suppose you’re not used to shaking hands with kings.”

“N-No, sire.”

“If what you wrote is true…” Sebastian gestures toward the package.

Marcus hesitates before handing it over, his fingers lingering as though reluctant to let it go.

Sebastian breaks the seal and unfolds the documents. His eyes widen.

“My word,” Mira gasps. “He wasn’t lying, sweetie. This is it.”

“Your defection is accepted,” Sebastian says quickly, never looking up. “You are henceforth a citizen of Malguinem.”

“Sire… I must warn you. This technology… it’s dangerous. The soldiers I fought alongside—”

“Shush,” Sebastian interrupts, already turning away. “We begin production immediately.”

He rings a bell sharply.

“The empire won’t know what’s hit them,” Mira says, clapping her hands excitedly. “This will change everything.”

“Sire, please—” Marcus tries again, but the room floods with officials.

“Get these plans to the weapons division,” Sebastian orders. “Production and testing within the week!”

Marcus’ words are swallowed by the chaos as citizenship papers are shoved into his hands.

Sebastian storms through the war room issuing orders. Retreat routes, naval refits, offensive strategies.

“That’s my Sebby,” Mira smiles, kissing his cheek.

“This is it, Mira!” he exclaims, before noticing the room staring at him. “I… I need a moment.”

He exits quickly, weaving through corridors.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” Mira asks, following effortlessly.

“I just… I need…”

He pushes open a familiar door, stepping onto the balcony. Warm light washes over him as Sol shines across the sea.

“You always loved this spot,” Mira says, linking her arm with his. “Remember the night we fell asleep out here? The staff nearly rioted searching for you.” She laughs softly.

“Mira…” Sebastian steps to the balustrade. “Mira… it’s time.”

“Yes, dear?” She rests her head against his shoulder.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

Sebastian reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small silver locket. Old, dried blood stains the edge, the hinge rusted with age. He opens it, revealing a faded painting of a beautiful elven woman. Half worn by time, half darkened by blood.

“Do you remember how long it took the artist to finish that?” Mira asks fondly.

“Too long,” Sebastian whispers. A tear forms. “Mira… it’s time.”

He places the locket on the balcony railing.

“I can’t carry this anymore. I can’t carry you like this.”

“No one ever asked you to.”

“It’s my fault!” His voice breaks. “My fault you’re dead. My fault this war began. I thought I could face the empire… I thought I could protect you.”

“You were always a fool,” she says gently. “That’s why I loved you.”

“Please… don’t.” He presses his palms to his ears. “You still died. You were still torn from me.”

“Sebby… you cannot rule fate, my love.”

Sebastian sinks against the wall. “It doesn’t matter. I failed you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says softly. “The beast that took me, was never you Sebby.”

He opens his eyes. Her form flickers faintly before him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, reaching out to empty air. “I can’t be your love anymore. Your sweetie, your Sebby. I have to be… their king. This is our chance, Mira. We can finally turn the tide of this war. I can, I can...”

“I know,” Mira replies, her voice fading. “Time to be the king you were always meant to be, Hmm.”

Sebastian closes his eyes, tears slipping free. “I have to do this, alone. Unburdened.” He pauses, slowing opening his eyes. “Goodbye.”

Knock! Knock!

“Sire?” The butler opens the door cautiously. “The council was concerned. You left rather suddenly.” His gaze flicks to the locket resting on the balustrade, then back to Sebastian.

“I’m fine,” Sebastian says quietly. “I’m… fine now.”

“Yes, sire. Forgive the interruption.”

“No,” Sebastian says, turning toward the door. “I was finished here anyway.”

He follows the butler inside.

At the threshold, he pauses only long enough to glance back once more at the locket. Then closes the door.