Ivan wailed.
His hands were bound by shackles, legs paralyzed from hours of torture until he was dragged to the execution ground. The sky itself was unforsaken, and his throat was dry with none other than dirt in it.
He was crying for mercy, but as the tears of a stranger are just water, his call for help was nothing either to the king seated just below the high black marble ground... the executioners with both swords and a scroll, and lastly, the commoners hurling stones his way.
"Please!" Ivan cried, his face turned down both in shame and from tiredness of looking anyone in the eyes. It weighed more on his heart when he had done nothing wrong.
Some would ask.... "But were they to blame here? What else would they have done when the slave was found next to the princess's dying body?" However, that's not a question you ask if you have never been there.
The princess was holding onto Ivan's rugged, shabby clothes... and for a moment, he felt both broken and important. All for what, exactly?
One of the executioners, with long grey beards and in an overly red cloak, cleared his throat as he paced closer to Ivan. He couldn't stop crying. Not even when this man - the Verdict of the Rule of Law - opened his scroll.
The man's husky, thick voice spread through the clearings, "Ivan Belmouth, hear your sentence. For these will be the last words you'll ever hear before you go to hell ahead."
Tears streamed down Ivan's face. He whimpered, "I didn't... I didn't do it! Please!"
"... By the Act Ten of the Rule of Law, I declare..."
Ivan's heart raced faster than his legs struggled against the chains to jump forward. Two men immediately seized and pinned him to the warm ground, caught in the act of trying to reach out for the verdict.
For he, and everyone else, knew there was no going back when the verdict gives the sentence.
"NO! Please, have mercy on me! It wasn't me! I didn't kill the—"
The verdict cut in violently, "... I declare, for murdering a descendant of the royalty's bloodline, you shall be put to rest with your entire family. Your entire generation!
But on legal considerations, as you, Ivan Belmouth, has no ties whatsoever to the world, just a ticking bomb that appears out of nowhere, you'll face a much crueler fate..."
The villagers screamed up, throwing punches into the air. As though they were cheering the verdict up. The king's officials in blue robes watched in neutrality, while some smiled. But the king himself?
A perfect illustration of don't mistake a gentleman's silence for weakness, he was.
The verdict declared,
"... your tongue shall be cut off so you can't beg for mercy. Limbs ripped apart so you can't run away when the flames eat you alive. And your eyes purged out so you don't see what erased you from reality. Like a nobody you are. And above all... you shall be a vessel to kill an evil spirit as well!"
Ivan cried out loudly. He stiffened his shoulders to break loose, but the men wouldn't let him go. One of them dragged him to his knees, while another wore iron bracelets around his hands and legs. But before the man turned away, he muttered sorry to Ivan with tear-streaked eyes.
Ivan turned his head down and let the water flow. What would that apology change? No matter what, he was still going to lose his life... one he had never once enjoyed for himself, but for serving the same royals who framed him today.
'I am so... unfortunate!'
***
Two months later...
It was the day. The day the royal household had been waiting for.
The window covers reflected orange from the lantern inside. Birth tusks, amulets, and talismans added more decoration to both the inner and outer walls of the queen's chamber than any other items.
Because on a day like this, when the sky is black and moon smiling at the lands... when the mother's labouring cries are what people carefully listen to to know when the baby cries too, evil spirits thrive for chaos. And these talismans are used to block their passage inside.
People call them witches, spirits, and low magicians - whatever suits their taste.
Meanwhile, high above a mountain near the palace, or instead, the chamber, stood a man. A brown shabby cloak. A curly walking wand with a glowing stone atop. A long brown beard that danced in the cold breeze, his dark eye bags giving him the vibe he represents at first sight.
Not everyone walks around with a wand... In a moment, he pulled out a transparent orb that glowed yellow when he muttered some words. Spells.
He used psychokinesis to make the orb float through the air to right above the chamber's roof. In the blink of an eye, the whole building was brimming with faint purple energy. Only visible to the eyes of the caster - the old wizard.
After confirming everything was done, he vanished from the mountain through a portal that opened at his calling. The air literally opened up for him, taking him from the mountain to anywhere he wanted.
... The time finally came. When everyone glanced at the room's door at the same time. Because they had just heard the queen's voice. It meant only two things...
The wooden door creaked open, and a white-clothed nurse came out showing a black piece of cloth. Both slaves and nobles jumped up in happiness. They shouted "it's a boy!"... "the new heir is here!"... "our new prince".
The king's mother turned away with her guards seconds later with a tight expression. Well-wishers don't act that way as though they owed the devil rent, do they?
The queen sat inside on a flat, plush bed, holding the baby in her hand. The nurse had wrapped him in a black cloth earlier.
She smiled looking at his chubby cheeks and wiped her palm across his forehead to get a better view of it. She had never had a baby... which got her thinking, is this how newborn babies are so beautiful?
It was the best moment of her life. But the worst one for someone else, that they wanted to rip their head apart for answers. They say being chased by a ghost or affected by an evil eye is scary, but getting tied up in a dark fantasy is another.
The baby blinked. He blinked. And looked more closely at the eyes of the person holding him. The queen! Someone he would never forget... But why was she holding him?
'What's happening?' Ivan thought, frowning in confusion.
The queen chuckled and tugged at the baby's chubby cheeks. "Hm, aren't you supposed to cry first? That is..."
One of the maids bowed before the queen. "You can pinch the prince if he isn't crying, my queen."
'The prince?!'
"Oh," the queen mouthed and did as she said.
Ivan noticed the pinch on his arm. But didn't feel a thing. Even so, something came up in him he didn't know before he cried out. If nothing else was clear, something was - he had been reborn as the queen's child!
How did this happen?!
The queen smiled. "That's my son. Eric."
"Oh, that's a beautiful name!"
....
Ivan gritted his teeth. 'Give me a break!'