Sweet Waters Throne

Chapter 207 - 207 Chapter 207

207 Chapter 20The day Amabel Taelin was sworn in as the King of Prophis, was also the day he became a man at only fourteen. He was tall for his age, standing at six foot two and towering over his mother and lords alikes. Because he was tall, he knew he had to act like a man grown instead of a child, to which he did.

The arena was packed with people and they screamed for Prince Ambrose to be punished, they needed his head. The young man whose family was robbed off their food and animals as Prince Ambrose’s army passed through, attended the execution and he made sure to stand at the front.

Five guards entered the main stage of the arena dressed in their armors and steel helmets while dragging Prince Ambrose by his hands. The once glorious prince looked like a beggar now, his grey robe made of wool had turned brown and it was clinging off his bones. His hairs were full of lice, and his legs filled with black dirt from the dungeons.

Prince Ambrose’s eyes squinted when he was brought outside in the open. It was the winter sun which he wasn’t used to especially after staying inside darkness for so long, he didn’t even know where he was but one thing he was sure about was his death.

The guards placed him down on what looked like a log, his body and head separated. Prince Ambrose knew the purpose of the log before he was even bent down to it, during his father’s reign, he executed men too. Sometimes he wanted to execute the men himself and he wasn’t forced by his father. It felt good to hold someone’s life on his hands, to have that power of the gods.

How things have turned, now it was his life which was held by his nephew. The same young boy he used to take out for fun times in the snow and play sword fighting with. Did he deserve it? To be executed in front of masses by his nephew?

Well, deep down Prince Ambrose knew if things were to turn, he would take Amabel’s head without blinking. So he did deserve it, he committed treason against the King and tortured his own people.

Amabel arrived in the arena accompanied with Sir Tyriol, the seven foot humongous Lord Commander of the Kingsguards. Dressed in his silks and the golden crown, Amabel sure looked like a King already. On his waist — a shining sword freshly forged by the best blacksmiths in the realm, today he will make his first kill.

The good folks screamed for justice, and cheered for Amabel at the same time. “Justice! Justice” they demanded while raising their hands.

.....

If this was during King Taelin’s reign, most of these good folks would have been put to sword by Taelin’s men. They wouldn’t get any justice let alone an execution of one of his own, but his time had passed and it was time for his grandson to rule as he sees fit.

Katarina stood beside her sons, Barkis was also present today and so was Frost Taelin, the youngest of the Taelin brothers. “Are you ready?” Katarina asked Amabel as they both looked at Prince Ambrose who was already bent down to wait his fate.

Amabel took his time, he inhaled deep and exhaled at the same time. He always practiced with his sword but he never got to kill a man, this will be his first kill and what if he hesitates in front of all his people. They will think he’s weak, and a weak King invites battles and rebellions.

“What will father think of me? Killing his own brother?” asked Amabel while his eyes glued at Prince Ambrose.

“The brother who wanted to desperately kill you, he will understand” replied Katarina, she reached out for his son’s back and patted it softly.

Then Amabel moved towards the log, he drew out his shining sword and looked down at his uncle. The screams heightened, the good folks truly wanted Prince Ambrose’s head that day.

“Any last words uncle?”

Prince Ambrose spat, “Piss off, you and that whore you call mother. Your reign won’t be long nephew, my brothers will come for you” he said arrogantly.

“Then they will face the same fate as you uncle. I am the true heir to the Silver throne, cursed be who will try to take it from me”

“Look at you little nephew, speaking like your father... you are a Taelin. Ruling as tyrants is inside our blood, sooner or later they will hate you these people. How long will you pretend to be nice?”

Those words got to Amabel and he was shook for just a few seconds. Was it all for a show? Would he really change down the road and embrace his true nature as a tyrant? Or will his true nature force itself outside and destroy everything he will build over the years.

Prince Ambrose kept on pushing the agenda after he saw the effect it had on his nephew. “Stop fighting it, these people don’t care about you. Why should you care about them?” he kept on saying.

The good folks weren’t at the battlement of the main stage hence they didn’t hear what was Prince Ambrose saying to Amabel. All they saw was Amabel hesitating to carry out the sentence, he was standing there with his sword but it was as if he didn’t know how to use it. Or he did, but he froze and he was unaware of what to do next.

Suddenly, as if he just woke up from sleeping, Amabel raised his sword high above the grounds. “I, Amabel Taelin, first of my name. King of Prophis, Good Folks and Frozen Lands. Lord of Raven and Protector of The Realm... sentence you to die” he said this loudly and the good folks heard him.

The cheers erupted again when Amabel raised his sharp and heavy sword. When it fell down, Prince Ambrose’s head was torn apart from his body. Blood spattered all over the battlement, and some on Amabel’s silk and his face. He was breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath, this was his first kill and nothing prepares you for your first kill.

But also nothing prepares a man for a chaos of over one hundred thousand local people. There has never been a day which delighted Prophisians than this day, the execution of Prince Ambrose Taelin.

Brothels in Raven, Bellward, Claydall and King’s City were full to their capacity. Wine sinks crowded with drunkards and even those who don’t drink, decided to drink today because they were happy that justice was delivered. It went on for two days, and still the celebrations never stopped nor showed any sign of slowing down.

The singers wrote songs about the kin-slayer, Amabel Taelin and praised him for his enormous strength. His first kill and he took his uncle’s head without stuttering. The actors performed the act on their open stages during the cold nights and still people showed up while covered in their layers, not even the winter prevented the good folks of Raven from having fun and celebrating their new King.

Amabel was praised as if he wasn’t a Taelin. The High Septon was right, he only had to do something which proved him to be different for his people to love and accept him.

Those people who once raised Gandalf’s banners on their houses and proudly called themselves lions, dropped down the sigils and raised Amabel’s instead. The spear piercing through a brown moon — all over the realm and the big cities. They named Amabel a “Savior” and considered him to be the best of the Taelins.

Princess Thelma was taken out from the dungeon and given a small room in the servants’ quarters ever since the day Prince Ambrose was executed. Amabel wouldn’t dare put his hands on his aunt, not because she was innocent, but because she was a woman.

No matter what she did in the past, Amabel was sure it was Prince Ambrose who pursuaded her into a rebellion. “Women don’t like wars, they just want to stay inside and feed their children. It was my uncle who pursuaded her into all this and for that I shall free my aunt. She can return to her daughter in Loni, have the sailors prepare a ship for her” Amabel gave an order to his men.

The freedom did nothing to make Princess Thelma happy, when Amabel visited her, she didn’t utter a single word. Neither did she interact in any way, her eyes were fixed down.

Father Stewart said her soul was wounded even though her body was healing. Once a person loses their soul, it’s hard to get it back. But maybe if she sees her daughter again, and with that Amabel hastened his men to do so without delay.

Five days after the execution of Prince Ambrose and the rise of King Amabel as the true King of Prophis, Princess Thelma found herself on a ship making her way to Loni. She should be delighted and happy to go back home, but rather it made her way more somber and depressed, there was nothing to go back to except her daughter. How will she tell Arya that her husband was executed in front of masses? That poor girl will be devastated.