OCA Writing Course Assignment Three
The Death of a King
Exercise 3.10
Night holds no draw for a Lightling, they are creatures of the sun, but this dark hour showed the Lightling king standing by his window. Waiting. Thinking. Praying. He wasn’t one for sitting about and relying on miracles to happen, he was one to go out and help make it happen. But now…now he needed a miracle.
Leaning against the doorway to his balcony, he sighed and rubbed his face with frustration. This was it, it had to be done. “I know you are listening,” he whispered into the night air, eyes searching the black. “I know you sent all those clues, that you want me to do this.” He sighed again, breath white in the cold air. “So do it. I will make my bargain with you, I will be your servant, but hark that you obey my decrees or I will rebel and take back what is mine. You cannot control me, only my circumstances. You are not all powerful.”
A long silence followed, a silence that lay as unbroken as a frozen pond. Dead silence. Then a silver beam broke through a cloud high above, illuminating the old king as he stood, unwavering, before the moon. Each tendril of light shone brighter than the last as the great orb revealed itself, picking out the upright figure of the king, from his greying head to worn boots. He was tired, and scarred from many battles, but it was his eyes that the white light sought out and held fast. Blue, blue eyes, the colour of sapphires and cloudless skies, that stared back into the moon’s light with their own quiet defiance. From the lunar orb shot beams of radiance, each brighter and more dazzling than the last until the old king was forced to shield his eyes.
On glancing up again he found a woman facing him on the balcony, silver hair gathered over her shoulder, her gown the same shimmering color, brushing the floor.
“Greetings my lady,” the Lightling murmured, sweeping a practiced bow that favored his right leg. “I am honored to meet with you at last.”
She inclined her head, features pale as porcelain. “Your highness, you flatter me, but what can I do for thee this night?”
Again, silence filled the night before the king spoke, every word causing pain in his heart. “I wish, oh lady of fortune, that there may be an end to this war. An end that it is not the one I foresee. I have done wrong, so many times, but now I hope to set that right with your help.” His eye took her in, full of hope and despair with each flicker of movement.
There then sounded a cold, tinkling, laugh that no mortal could give. “Your highness, Charles of the Sword, you wish me to clean up your mess?” The woman, fate herself, could not help a pitiless smile.
The Lightling’s jaw tightened and his hand went to the pummel of his blade. “My lady, it was you who planted this idea, do not deny it, and now I have taken the bait, do not mock me. You would not have chosen me if you did not count me as worthy. I know how your game is played, pray do not treat me as one of your subjects too soon.” His voice was sharp in the darkness, filled with ill-concealed anger and distain for this Being.
“Charles, Charles,” the woman’s words were a purr now. “I believe we have a deal to strike, do not make this more difficult than it has to be. The road ahead is mired enough for you as it is.” She inclined her head a fraction. “Let us bargain.”
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Another night, not so long after the pact was signed, Death trod the Lightling halls of the palace. Unseen by all, he navigated his way easily to the royal chambers, passing through locked doors and under the noses of alert sentries. No one saw him. None but the king. Silently, the shadowy form entered the bed chamber of his highness, walking to the head of the bed where the king lay with his wife. They were both so peaceful in sleep, fair hair on the pillows, their white streaks visible in the lamp light. No house was ever truly dark in the Lightling Kingdom.
Reaching out, Death brushed his pale fingers over the king’s arm, rousing him from sleep. “Fate wished me to wake you before it was time,” he explained softly, his voice surprisingly young.
The king stirred and turned to the black clad figure standing before him. “So…you’re death?” He guessed quietly.
“I am he,” the boy confirmed, pushing back his hood to reveal dark eyes and a mop of black hair, his skin even paler than the king’s. “Do you have any last words or requests to make?”
Charles paused, letting his gaze sweep around the room he’d ruled from for over forty years. Breathing in a last breath of clean sheets and home. The last he would take in life. “May I check on my loved ones before I leave?” He asked, swallowing to keep the waver out of his voice.
Death nodded once and held out his hand. “If you come with me now, we can visit them together before I take you to the mistress’ house.”
The Lightling king glanced at the small, pale, hand and then back up into the childlike face of death. He looked to be no more than seventeen. A wry smile traced its way across the old man’s features and he turned back to kiss his wife before sighing and taking the proffered hand.
Death took Charles’ soul then, lifted it up from the king’s body and out into the hallway. By morning the queen would find her husband dead beside her, peaceful as if in sleep, but for now Death let the man’s soul travel down the passage to visit his children one last time.
Reflective Commentary
Overall, I have enjoyed getting more in depth with the writing in this section, I have become more familiar with how the course works, and I have been able to relax more in exploring each piece of writing. One of the challenges I’ve been coming up against is returning to a piece of writing after a break or interruption. When coming back to the piece of writing, it’s been difficult to reconnect and remember where my ideas were going. However, planning and note taking have been useful to give reference to come back to. That, and research, have given me pre-written reminders as to how the piece of writing came about in order to prompt where I may take it next. Something that has also helped with keeping my head in the game, has been using ideas and characters from previous inventions of mine, writing scenes I haven’t had time to in the original. This means that months of prior thought has gone into the characters, setting, and emotion needed in the piece, so when I write the scene I have much more material to come back to. In editing, I feel I have improved over this last section. Printing the paper out and going over it with a pen, has been by far the easiest way of editing, providing I have left a few days in between writing the paper and editing it to put some distance between the piece and myself. Another strength I have realized in myself is that I now feel more comfortable with descriptive writing, often taking a real place and using that as a base. Memories of places have been a great store of inspiration, as by changing the characters in the setting but keeping some of the same emotion to the place helps to give a vivid picture. And lastly, a list of what I have been reading lately: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard by Rick Riordan, Keeper of the Lost Cities-Neverseen and Loadstar by Shannon Messenger, Maze Runner by James Dashner, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, Hunger Games-Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins, and The Last Wild-The Wild Beyond by Piers Torday.