Story: A Beautiful Death

“You could be rich, you know,” she said.

“Gold, gems, castles, anything your heart desires and more, everything you never even knew you could have.”

“I don’t want money,” he murmured.

“No?  Then what do you want?  Tell me and I will make it yours.”

When he didn’t respond, she forged on.  “Do you want a pretty wife who could make you lord of vast lands?  Or do you want to be lord in your own right?  You could rule over half the kingdom.”

She looked at him askance.

“You could even be king.”

He smiled.  “I won’t give you what you want.”

She frowned, her beautiful face suddenly turned petulant and cruel.  He knew she didn’t have much experience with people telling her no.

“If you’re done, I’ll be going now,” he told her gently.

“Wait.”  She stood and faced him fully for the first time, her eyes boring into his.

“You’re doomed; you know that right?  There’s no way you can win.”

He nodded.

“So why are you still fighting?  Switch sides!  Win!  Live!  Don’t die for no reason!” she cried, for the first time bleeding some emotion into her voice.

He paused.  “Because he’s everything to me.”

“So, it’s to be war then,” the king said, taking one look at his face as he strode into the throne room.

He remembered her offer and how earnestly she had pleaded and the way she had stroked his hand and asked.

“You could be king,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, dragging himself from the memories.  “There will be no peace.”  Not on any acceptable terms, anyway.

The king looked at him for a long time.

“We’ll need to move some troops over to the mountain passes.  She’ll have to attack from air there; she has no other option.”

“Well, don’t forget, we have to consider that she has her mercenaries too.  They’ll be able to flank and go through the side…”

Words washed over him, but he didn’t see the map or battle plans, only her face.

There was red everywhere, staining the side of his armor, coating the end of his sword, lapping at the edges of the trees, and whirling through the air.

There was no time to rest.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a full breath.

There was only slicing metal and hoarse screams and biting pain.

He spun and hacked and butchered until there were corpses piled high, but still they came and then the others broke.

Turning, he yelled at them to come back to hold the line, but nobody paid any attention.

Suddenly his foot caught in the mud, and he fell heavily and felt the sun on his back.

He tried to scramble backwards, but there was no use and no time.

Instinctively, he raised an arm against the flames, and the last thing he saw was the gleaming scales and pointed teeth of her dragon and her lovely, regretful face.

Only smoke and ashes remained of the ragtag army.  They stung her throat, but she refused to turn back.

“No survivors?” she asked although she knew the answer.

“None,” he answered viciously.  “A good death for all of them, my queen.”

Yes, she thought, remembering his calm face.  A good death.

Dragon breathing fire.  Web Source.

Author's Note:  This is Game of Thrones meets Mahabharata basically.  Dr. Gibbs pointed out the similarities between Karna and Jon Snow so I had to write a story about it.  I obviously took some liberties with what happened in Game of Thrones, namely about what happens with Robb and Jon and Daenerys but I tried to keep it within the realms of possibility.  Since Karna was tempted and wooed by the other side, I added references to that between Daenerys and Jon and also included the trapped and vulnerable nature of Karna's death in Jon's fate.

Bibliography:  R.K. Narayan.  Mahabharata.  Reading Guide.