**NOTICE: EPISODE CONTAINS GRAPHIC NARRATED IMAGERY**

Time moves differently on the battlefield.

A meeting between brothers, after many cruel years apart, should be a tender sight. Yet this was not so. 

Perhaps he believed he fought against some skillful northern dog, for the southern king showed no mercy. 

He punished his enemy by the sword until he fell to his knees in surrender. 

Eager to offer the enemy; his brother, up to death, the southern king stood before him.

**

Failing to meet at the same measure of skill, Alex knew his encounter against his brother would be short. 

And too, that he might be killed in his earnest endeavour. 

He fell. 

In his agony, senses juggled and doubled, leaving him vulnerable. 

But soon, pain would be no more and he would sleep soundly in the grave.

He would fight no longer.

Tossing his sword aside, Alex freed his dizzying head. The cooling rain gave little pleasure. 

**

Found little, amidst the spirit of war, of rage and valour, of misery and death. Mercy. 

And it found Alex in desperate want. 

And a southern king knowing not the word. 

 Yet, the southern king’s sword faltered.

Fury blinked into slow realization while rain crashed onto his dark armour. His eyes held steady. His sword still raised.

However, on the battlefield, little time can be afforded for tender moments.

And a horseman rushing in, attacked the southern king. 

Making to remove his head. Near trampling Alex.

Yet it was the enemy to suffer. 

In cradling his shortened arm, the officer sought to escape. Wiggling through mud, blood heavily trailing him as he went. 

He sought to find glory, yet found a southern blade buried in his chest. 

But not only once did Mercy appear. 

**

Alex imagined seeing his brother again, countless times. 

In their meeting, he would embrace him though he despised such. He would be as he were, young and little aware of the cruelty of the world. He would accept his brother’s vigorous training and never ever complain. 

Yet, it turned out not this way. 

Instead, they would meet on foreign lands. 

On a battlefield.

Amongst corpses and mud and blood and-

{And..and why is brother staring at his hand?} 

Alex stood. 

Near tripping over himself, he made for his brother. 

While Roman, barely made any motion towards him.

In fact, his movements were slow and distracted, his sword arm heavy, and when he did move, he tottered.

Close enough now to hear his ragged breaths, to touch him, Alex locked eyes with his brother’s. 

Fear appeared to reside there.

Then Roman, gripping him by the arms, pulled him down to his knees and in drawing him near, his brother spoke. 

To share something with him. 

But the urgent words failed to reach his lips, for thick blood came spewing forth, flowing down his chin. 

He choked on it. Coughing up more blood as he struggled to simply speak.

Puzzled as to what transpired, Alex frantically questioned his brother.

For Roman slaughtered all those opposed in one moment. And in the next- next, his brother had a black arrow pierced into his side.

There was a throbbing in his head. Needle-like, screaming, full of thorns. 

His chest rose and fell with a speed he could not control. 

Breathless, Alex called for his brother. And though no reply came, he persisted still. 

Roman’s head lay within his lap. In a pool of his own blood and water. 

Stabbing its way out from the pit of his bowels and clawing into his chest- 

Lodging itself in his throat, it began consuming him. 

His feverish tears ran freely, mingling with the rain.  

Senses were snatched away from the cacophony of battle and little else mattered to Alex. 

Yet in fact he did hear, distinct and clear as clanging tower bells (for they indeed rang), the raspy breaths of his dear brother. 

Alex: Brother?!

To cry for help his mind demanded of him. Someone. Anyone. Yet he did not. 

Instead, through blurred vision, he saw his brother, and he him.

Dark hair beneath his helmet stuck to his pale bloodied face. He still made attempts to speak, however, no discernible words came forth. 

Even if they did, it seemed the rains would easily wash them away.

Alex: Brother?

His brother’s grip upon him failing in strength, Alex cradling him, desperately begged, pleaded..

Alex: NO!!  ..Stay! ..a little longer..please..

He next found himself apologising. 

As for what errors, he was unsure. 

Then, as was dreadfully expected, his brother’s mumbling lips moved no more. His ragged breathing stopped. And he laid limp and heavy. 

So very heavy within his tight embrace.

The frigid sting of rain drenching him to his bones he felt not. Nor the aching pains in his...everywhere. 

Then an unexpected hearty laugh escaped Alex. In fact, he both laughed and cried. 

Hysterical, he saw little else around him.

**

**

He killed them. 

Relentless fury fell squarely upon anyone who drew too near. 

With raw red anger and great dread, he fought with all thoughts lost to him. All manner of refined swordsmanship- skills learnt over the years in his youth fled from him. 

His brother’s corpse lay amongst many others. 

Blades tasted his flesh. 

Yet such things mattered not. At this moment, nothing did.

He would soon join his brother.

Wheresoever his wild eyes fell, upon friend or foe, Alex’s sword claimed. 

A wild beast, near impossible to hinder in its onslaught was he. And while he, receiving wounds well enough to fell any hardened man, he fought on till no one dared approach. 

Arrows struck him. 

And as though boulders were chained to his ankles, and the wrist of his sword arm, the seemingly unstoppable beast slowed. 

Found without a weapon; for his sword slipped free, someone called ordering

-- SURRENDER, ALEX!!

From the pit of his bowels he screamed, lunging at the officer. He would tear off their limbs with his bare hands. 

With arms outstretched, he snatched and clawed, missing his target entirely.

-- SURRENDER!!

She screamed, evading his attack again. 

With teeth bared and her long blade steady at his heaving chest, the sharp green of her eyes held him fixed to where he stood.

Anna: Surrender!

She was not alone, others drew near. 

To his left then to his right Alex glanced. 

Noting clearly their blades encircling him as though he were some sort of wild animal to be captured and caged.

Though his breaths were unsteady, he found himself to be strangely calm. 

Calm enough to harbour thoughts of madness.

Believing that he still yet possessed enough strength to fight. 

Whomsoever it be, he would kill them. He need only retrieve- the sword lay somewhere at his feet. 

He could do it. 

He could slaughter them all. He could-

He glanced downwards, spotting what he needed partially buried in the mud nearby. 

Anna: So you know…

Alex: …

Anna: …swordless or not, if you fight me, I will kill you, Alex.

He believed her.

Then came an unpleasant sound.

At first, small, then steadily…

Louder. And louder.

The cries of men could be heard- Officers declaring the Southern King’s death. 

Ignoring their words proved impossible, for it rang true. 

And with each utterance, it stabbed him ever so deeply in his heart. 

Blood and tears flowing freely from him, memories began to interject what little focus he had.

He hung his head. 

And non threatening this time, placed his hands before him.

Someone shoved him and down he went. 

With him now on all fours, men cheered, and others laughed at the pitiful southerner.

At their feet; where such filth rightfully belonged, men hurled curses and insults down at him. 

Though Alex heard their voices, their words fell as if sounding from some distant mountain, troubling him not. 

His head swirled. 

With a sour taste growing in his mouth, he shut his eyes and spat before him. 

His body trembled and a burning sting of creeping pain increased, filling his mind. Found already in a most miserable state, he retched, covering his hands in its warmth. 

In a daze, he watched as his vision slowly began to fade. Until eventually, choosing to surrender, Alex resigned to the darkness and welcomed the silence consuming his soul. 

**

***

➵