Hiram, the king of the Dream Kingdom, knew his time was up.
Wilhelm, the kings sand white raven, and most trusted friend sad perched upon his bedpost. His sole companion in the past few days, yet ironically, was only waiting to spread the news of his death. The king flew into a fit of coughs as he pondered what he had done wrong. Why, after billions of millennium of service, three wives, and fifteen children, was he alone? Was he not a good king? A good father? A good husband?
"Wilhelm?" The King wheezed, droplets of crimson blood spraying over his beard and white duvet.
Wilhelm, always so dutifully by his side, fluttered down onto the bed. He ruffled his beak through his feathers, pulling a spider from under his wing. The cobwebs had been gathering in the months the king was trapped in his chambers, unable to move. " Yes, My Lord?"
"My Children, where-" He took a gander around the desolate room. The candles had nearly burned out, silver wax pooling into a puddle on the nightstand. The room was dark, but beyond the curtain, through just a crack, Hiram could see sunlight. And he longed to walk out in his garden again, to watch his daughters frolic around the flower beds and observe his sons as they wrestled over a game of marbles. The old king felt his heart spluttering at the thought. "-where are my children? Linus? Estelle? Niklaus?"
"W-well, my Lord," Wilhelm fluttered his wings, knowing the King was being delirious in his final moments. "Linus is preparing to take responsibility for the realm. I'm afraid he and Niklaus are all that remain in the kingdom, Your Grace, both to fulfill their duties."
"Only two?" The king gasped. "So few. So disgraceful!"
"My King?" Wilhelm craned his neck, beady black eyes watching his masters every movement. "What shall you have done?"
"Tell all My Old Friend!" Hiram croaked, his chest nearly still. "This poison will not end The Balance. None of my children will inherit my throne, not until they have earned the favor of the Council! Not until their pride and silly antics are done! Not until the moon slumbers and they know what it is to truly see the sunrise-"
The Kings breath trailed off as he slowly slipped into what we call death. His conscious, forever powerful, forever living, fled to Retire as all do in the end. Alas, his job was done and now Wilhelm knew it was time for him to take flight. And with the flutter of his wings in the quiet night, he carried the fate of the realm with him.
Dangerous and unknown.
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