The Cost of Vengeance

I want him dead.

I repeated those words in my head until they were no longer just thoughts, but something that embedded itself deep into my bones. The phrase resonated like a mantra.

I clenched my fists as I walked through the corridors of the palace I once called home, rage splitting my thoughts into jagged pieces.

There was a flash of lightning that splintered across the night sky beyond the stained windows, its light illuminating the marbled floors and pearl-colored walls. A low, angry rumble followed, shaking the stone beneath my feet. The same anger that raged in me.

The anger wasn’t new. It had been a year since the king gave the order to have my wife executed. A year since the man I once swore my life to, became the man I wanted dead.

I had given everything to this kingdom. Bled for it. Fought alongside men I would have died for without hesitation. I served him without question.

And still, he took everything from me. Everything.

The hatred I carry for him festered from my grief, fed by every sleepless night, every memory I cannot escape, every shard of pain I have from the recurring nightmares of that day. I wanted it to end.

Every step had been rehearsed a hundred times before I ever set foot inside these walls. For a year, I had studied this place from the outside. I knew every turn, every corridor, every rotation of the guards. I watched. Waited. Learned the rhythm of a man who did not deserve to breathe.

Although, what I hadn’t expected were the flowers. A fresh arrangement sat on a narrow table against the wall. My pace slowed.

Wildflowers.

The sight of them tightened something in my chest. They had always been her favorite. Clara… she loved them because no two were alike, each one was unique and beautiful.

For a fleeting moment, something softer tried to surface through the hatred that consumed me. Her laugh, the way the sound used to fill the quiet spaces I never noticed until they were gone. The way her nose would crinkle when she laughed at something I said. The way her smile made me feel like all the years of war I had endured had simply vanished. As if the horrors I had witnessed never existed.

The way she looked at the world was something to be admired. Gods, she loved life. She loved it so fiercely that she devoted herself to becoming a healer. To save the lives of others.

What I would give to see her again… no… what I would do.

My grip tightened around the hilt at my side. The king will pay for what he has done. Tonight, the never ending pain I have felt since that day will end.

The door at the end of the hall stood closed and unguarded, just as it always was at this hour. I only had a sliver of time between the next guard rotation.

When I reached the door to his chambers it was much larger than I anticipated. Intricate gold designs were carved into the mahogany. I reached into my pocket for the lockpick and set to work, my eyes flicking over my shoulder for any movement. Mainly due to habit.

The lock gave way easily. Back when I served in the army, I had been trained in covert assignments, work far more dangerous and precise than any other job for a warrior. The king would send me on countless contracts. I’ve killed many people, and rarely asked questions. People I didn’t know, people that I had no right to pass judgement. But this time, I felt no hesitation. I knew, with every fiber of my being, that he deserved it.

I swung the door open just enough to peer inside and paused, straining to listen. The only sound was the soft patter of rain against the windows. Beyond that, there was nothing, absolute silence. Satisfied that nobody was there, I slipped through and closed the door quietly behind me with a soft click.

Darkness enveloped the room, only being broken by the flickering fire in the hearth nearby. Shadows danced across the high vaulted ceiling, and the rich tapestries on the walls. At the far side stood a large bed, its posts draped with sheer curtains. The room smelled of aged wood and faint smoke, a scent that somehow brought a strange sense of peace.

I sank into one of the plush red loveseats set before the lit hearth, my battle-scarred hands brushing over the velvet. Comfortable.

I didn’t bother hiding, nor did I cover my face. I wanted the king to know exactly who I was. I wanted to be the last face he saw.

I drew my dagger from its sheath, turning it in my hand and watching the blade catch the warm glow of the fire. It had been a gift from the king himself when I retired. It was his way of saying “thank you for all you have done.” I almost wanted to laugh… How poetic.

The creak of the door opening drew me back from my thoughts. Right on time.

The king wore a dark crimson robe, gold embroidery tracing intricate patterns across the velvet. He didn’t even glance my way, too absorbed in unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his collar.

“Hello, Lloyd,” I sighed, leaving no room for formalities. I didn’t dare call him my king. He lost that respect a long time ago.

Lloyd froze, his head snapping toward me, eyes narrowing. “Alaric?”

“You remember me. Good.” I said, my voice steady.

The king's eyes flicked to the blade in my hands, and I saw him swallow, “What are you doing here?”

I could hear the uneasiness in his tone. I rose from the loveseat and took a step closer, “I came here to tell you a story.”

I walked toward him lazily, letting the dagger twist between my fingers. Lloyd took a step back. “Guards!” he barked, but I knew they wouldn’t come.

“A long time ago,” I began, “there was a warrior who fought loyally for his king.” I closed the distance between us. Lloyd tried to reach the door, but I was faster, slamming it shut behind him.

“When that warrior retired he met a kind, beautiful woman, who was a healer. Her name was Clara and they fell in love.” I continued. The firelight caught the fear in the king’s eyes, and another crack of thunder rolled through the palace. “Years later, they got married and lived peacefully in the kingdom that they both cherished.”

Lloyd tried to step back, stumbling, his voice rising. “I don’t have time for your stories, Alaric!”

I ignored him. “But one day, the warrior returned home… to find guards dragging her from their house. He fought, screamed, demanded to know what she had done wrong.” I took another step.

I paused, I could tell by the look in Lloyd’s eyes that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“They told him she practiced unlawful magic. That she must die. And do you know who gave the order?” I whispered, letting each word sink in. “The king.”

Lloyd’s lips parted. “Alaric, I—”

I cut him off, voice rising “Do you know what happened next? That warrior… he watched them kill the woman he loved. He saw her life leave her eyes. He… he…” My hands trembled as I lifted the dagger to his face, “She was my wife!” The anger boiling just beneath the surface of my composure.

Lloyd’s fear twisted into something cruel, something callous. “She practiced magic,” he said, voice flat. “She was dangerous. I did what had to be done.”

“You’re a liar,” I hissed, pressing the blade to the side of his neck. He didn’t struggle. That only fueled my fury. “She was a healer. She saved people’s lives!”

“She was a witch,” he spat, his eyes hardening to cold stone.

Something inside me shattered. The last thread holding me together snapped. I lifted the blade higher, and a roar tore from my chest. Rage boiled through my veins, consuming every thought. How dare he.

Before I could plunge the blade into his chest, a sharp gasp froze me mid-motion. My head jerked toward the doorway, where the queen now stood. I hadn’t even heard her enter.

She stood there frozen, wearing a red and gold dress that mirrored the king’s own attire. Blonde waves framed her face, and her eyes darted between us, wide with shock and confusion.

With the distraction, Lloyd lunged, grabbing my wrist as I held the dagger and shoved me back. He struggled, but he was no match for a man who had spent years training to kill. My fist shot forward, connecting with his jaw. He went down hard, hitting the floor with a grunt.

The queen screamed, “Guards!”

I turned toward the queen once more as an idea struck me. A cold, emotionless smile tugged the corners of my mouth. “An eye for an eye,” I seethed.

“No, please no.” Lloyd begged, his voice strained.

I walked toward the queen, “You will suffer as I have suffered!” I shouted back to Lloyd.

The queen tried to run, but I caught her wrist and yanked her back. “Please!” she cried.

That was when I noticed her swollen belly. She was with child.

I froze when I saw the absolute terror in her pale blue eyes. The very same shade of blue Clara’s were. My chest tightened, and for the first time since I entered this room, the rage faltered. A cold, sickening realization spread through me. This wasn’t justice. This wasn’t revenge.

I loosened my grip, and the dagger trembled in my hand. My knees felt weak. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, barely audible. Not to her, not to Lloyd… to Clara.

Clara had always celebrated life. That was why she became a healer. She hated the violence that so often stained the world. And now, looking at the queen, seeing the small life growing within her and seeing the same fear I saw in Clara’s eyes on that day, her pale-blue eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t kill her… or the child. No matter how much I wanted Lloyd to suffer.

For the first time in a year, the fury that had consumed me dissipated, leaving only a hollowness in its place. All I had ever known, being driven by anger and hatred, the desperate need for revenge suddenly felt meaningless. I had spent months planning, calculating, every moment focused on making Lloyd pay. But for what? Was I really willing to become the thing Clara despised most? A monster?

I lowered my blade and released the queen’s wrist. My eyes flicked back to Lloyd. I could see the relief flash in his eyes, but I felt nothing for him, only the emptiness that had settled deep in my chest.

I crossed the room and stopped beside him, still sprawled across the marble floor, blood stained his lip where my fist had struck him.

For a moment, I just looked at him. This man. This king. I placed the blade he had gifted me beside him, “I won’t let you take anything else from me.”

With that, I turned away, leaving behind the parts of myself I refused to carry any further.

The rain had cleared, a thin layer of dew clung to the grass in its wake and fog drifted low across the wildflower covered field where I knelt.

The rising sun peeked through the trees, its warmth brushed against my face. I closed my eyes, letting the rays ground me in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. The birds sang their songs in the distance and life continued to move forward.

Then I began to cry for the first time. I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Clara’s name etched into the stone's smooth surface. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against the tomb, cold and damp.

For a year, I hadn’t felt her. There had only been rage, eating at me like a virus. But in the quiet moments like this. When the birds sang, when the sun rose, when wildflowers bloomed, I could finally feel her. She lived in the beauty of the world. The life she had loved so much.

That was when I understood. Revenge would have done nothing. It would have hollowed me out, tainted what remained of my soul, until there was nothing left of me that could feel her at all. I was afraid of falling apart. I tried clinging to my anger as if it were the only thing that kept me tethered to her. But that only made me a prisoner.

But now, in this field of wildflowers… In this moment, she was here.

And for the first time in a long while, a smile found its way to my lips.

I felt at peace.