[fanfic] Unfair

Sabin just couldn’t stand it anymore. It was so unfair.

Sabin’s worried and everyone in the castle knew it.  It had been three days since the King was poisoned and while the young Prince didn’t want to leave his Father’s side, he was forced out by both the Chancellor and a rather burly looking guard. The boy had splutered out some weak curses before the breeze caused by the door closing ruffled his dirty-blond hair off his face.

So Sabin paced the hall with a mix of emotions lining his tanned face.  He could hear nothing from inside his Father’s chambers and that worried him even more.  What’s happening in there, he wondered as a maid rushed into the room.

“Hey, what’s–” Sabin asked before the door was once again closed in his face.

That act alone added frustration to the anger, worry and fear.  His Father was a strong man, someone to be admired; he was King. How could they just leave him stewing like this?  That was his Father in there, there was no way that he could die.   The man would bounce back from this attempt on his life stronger than ever before.   The King had always been like that, why would that particular moment be any different.


In the midst of what had to be the fiftieth lap through the hall, the Prince heard the voice of Edgar, his brother.

“Edgar—” Sabin began before the door creaked open.  The solemn face of the Chancellor spokes volumes before the man turned to face the younger brother.

“Chancellor, how is –”

“Sabin,” the man began quietly.  “It’s too late.”

“What do you mean it’s too late?”

“His Majesty has—“

“NO,” Sabin shouted suddenly as voices began to rise in volume.  Debates about who would succeed the throne had already begun and anger clouded Sabin’s vision.  “He’s not dead.  He can’t be.

“Your Highness,” a Minister with a nasal-toned voice said quietly before shuffling forward.  “I’m so sorry…”

Sabin stood there, staring at the lifeless form of his Father while voices whispered quickly about a subject that the blond would always abhor.

The Succession.

Sabin spun around, bearing down on the Ministers who would dare to discuss something so vile in front of his father.  “All of you.  Shut your mouths and get out of here!  How dare you talk about that matter in front of my Father.”

“But Your Highness,” the nasally Minister pressed.  “It’s an import—”

Nothing is more important than respecting the dead!” Sabin shouted before running out of the room.  It was all too much far too soon as hot angry tears began splashing down his face.

It wasn’t fair.  It just wasn’t fair.

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