Tumblr tell me what you think of my writing
King Tarius lay covered in his lavish woolen sheets, sickly and tired. His graying beard
unkempt from his growing weakness. The bags under his eyes were nearly as dark as coal, and
his sunken cheeks as deep as a ditch. Tarius coughed deeply, his illness catching up to him. He
knew he hadn’t much time left, thus he prepared his eldest son, Setheros, to take his place as
King of Wiveria. He turned to face the eyes of his firstborn, his eyes still a crystal-like radiant
blue unlike his own that were beginning to dull as he neared the end of his life. He reached out to
his eldest, who took his hand dutifully.
“Setheros, swear to me. Swear to me I’m leaving Wiveria in good hands. Swear it to the
gods that be.” He said, squeezing his son’s hand in his own.
“I swear to you, father.” Setheros responded sternly. No doubts in his mind did he have
about taking rule over Wiveria. He knew what he would make of it, he would make it a better
place. King Tarius smiled with Setheros’ answer, his gaze softening. He let go of Setheros’ hand,
and reached out for his middle child, Typhon. Typhon stepped forward, and Setheros
begrudgingly backed away. Typhon lowered himself.
“Setheros will be busy with the kingdom, so I need you to take care of Stelia. Can you do
that for me?” He asked, though it sounded more like a demand. Typhon chuckled, tears
threatening to spill over like a waterfall, but he refused to let them out.
“Of course, father. I might not be very strong, but I’ll do my best. I’ll make sure she
grows up a refined young lady. I swear it.” Typhon promised, a bittersweet smile on his face. He
lowered his head before slipping away to make room for the youngest, Stelia. Unlike her older
brothers, she wasn’t as good at concealing what she was feeling. She dived towards Tarius, her
cheeks and nose red from holding in her tears for so long.
“Father, please don’t go! Don’t! We still need you!” She wept into his shoulder, her long,
auburn hair sticking to the sheets. King Tarius chuckled a little, wrapping his arms around his
youngest in comfort. He let one tear trickle down his face before pulling Stelia off of him.
“This is something that can’t be helped. Neither the doctors nor the priests could do
anything for me. I’m so sorry to have to leave you so soon.” He cupped her face in his hand and
wiped away her tears and stray hairs still stuck to her face. She only sniffled in response. He
continued, “You will be fine without me, you have nothing to fear. May the gods protect you all,
my dear children.” He let out a small cough with that last sentence, and then a cough became a
wheezing and hacking fit. Setheros rushed to the King’s side.
“Don’t scare us like this! Typhon, fetch some water for him!” He commanded of the
middle child. Typhon nodded and worriedly made his way towards a desk in the room, a glass
pitcher of water resting on top of it. He quickly filled the glass besides it and turned to take it to
the King, tripping on the rug.
The glass of water shattered on the hardwood floor of the King’s bedchambers, shards
and blood in Typhon’s hand. The coughing stopped, as did everyone else. It seemed even the god
of the wind went silent, the atmosphere still and heavy in the air. Typhon looked up at his father
who lay motionless in his death bed. How could he have been so clumsy? What were his siblings
thinking right now? They must hate him. Of course they would, even he would hate him after
what he had just done. Servants rushed to the King’s side, one helping Typhon up from the floor
to take him to the castle’s infirmary. Typhone glanced back into the room as he was rushed out.
Stelia was crying again. But Setheros. Though a shadow had obscured the top half of his
face and he hadn’t said a word, the glint of anger in his glare said it all.
