Kings and Gods

 For an Instagram writing challenge called the #WriterstoWritersChallenge, we had to write a 500 word story ending with "Kings and gods have bowed to me. What makes you think you can refuse me?"

My original draft was over 1700 words, so I had to pare it down quite a bit to enter it in the Instagram challenge!

This story is set in the same world as one of my novels, using the same characters but with names changed. 

You can read both the challenge submission and the original draft here. 

Kings and Gods

Nimiar was looking out at the moon setting over the mountains when the door startled her. Hands that once wielded bows and daggers now shook with fear. 

“Why are you up?”

“I just wanted to see the moonset,” she said, pulling her skirt up higher to hide her growing middle. He smelled of strong drink and ladies’ perfumes. She thought of the mountain lions and dangerous conditions her father had taught her to hunt and overcome. She did not fear what others feared in the mountains, but she feared what others feared in Braghden more than anyone else could. 

When Braghden had first wanted her, she had spurned him. 

"Kings and gods will bow to me," he had spat. "What makes you think you can refuse me?"

She had laughed. But in the end she could not refuse the choice between marriage or her father's death - the first of a lifetime of choices she was never truly free to choose.

“My men have spotted a dragon by the cliffs," Braghden said suddenly. “We are capturing it to sacrifice at the Festival of Fire instead of the phoenix.” 

Nimiar swallowed a gasp.

“I will be the one to show everyone dragons exist," Braghden continued. “Isn’t it right for me to be the first to encounter dragons and discover that they are not myth?"

To agree would affirm her father's long-ago guilt when he had failed to provide a phoenix for the festival. Nobody had believed that a dragon scared all the phoenix away. But Nimiar had been there. She had seen the dragon.

“Yes,” she muttered. She looked at this man who thought he could move mountains - yet if he dared ever set foot in them, they would tear him apart and leave his bones to the dust of the winds. 

“I am going to bed,” she said then, and left.

Could this be the same dragon? She wondered when safely alone again. She thought it a far greater sacrilege to harm such a beast than to fail to provide a sacrifice for the festival. But who could capture it? It would leave the village in ashes, smoke rising to the gods, who would receive it with contempt at he who dared presume they would ever bow to him. 

The dragon also brought to mind her father. He had given her a chance at freedom, but she had not yet found the courage. Nimiar put her hand on her belly and tried to think what her own mother would have done. 

She looked to the mountains in her mind, as she had been looking at them before Braghden came home. She could almost hear the lions screaming, and the wind, and the haunting song of the dragon. The voices of the mountains summoned her, offering what she desperately needed: escape. They had truly earned power and respect. 

She listened as they called to her:

"Kings and gods have bowed to me. What makes you think you can refuse me?"

Kings and Gods: Original Draft

Nimiar was looking out at the full moon over the mountains when a sound at the door startled her out of her reverie. Fear, anger, and hate flooded through her heart and into the very tips of her fingers, weighing on her weary limbs - limbs that missed the feel of a bow, the thrust of a dagger, the scraggly rocks and hills of the mountains. 

Nimiar pulled the top of her skirt up above her belly button before turning to Braghden, who would be suspicious to see her up at this hour. He was always coming home late now. Probably enjoyed the company of several mistresses or ladies of the night before coming home to his wife. 

Wife. 

Nimiar did not think of herself as Braghden's wife, but as his slave. She could no longer hunt in her beloved mountains, or walk freely in the village, or see her family. She had wed him to protect her father... but he had died anyway. Died a broken man and buried not with his dead wife but thrown into the sea like a common thief, a traitor. 

Nimiar had pulled up her skirt to hide her growing belly. Nimiar did not want Braghden to know what she would not be able to hide much longer.

The first time Braghden wanted Nimiar, she had said no. She was only thirteen at the time; he nineteen. 

"Kings and gods will bow before me," he had spat. "What makes you think you can refuse me?"

This was not the first hint she had gotten of the depth of his ambition and insanity, and it certainly would not be the last. He was the King's Voice, representing the king in their remote village, and the King in turn spoke for the gods. It was Braghden who must bow to the gods, not them to he. But there had never before been so many mages greedy for power using this delusional heir for their own ends, and Braghden thought that with so many mages on his side, he could rival the greatest of the gods. 

It was so absurd that Nimiar had laughed in his face, for although Braghden had status, she had no respect for him, and could win a fight against him any day. 

In the end, she had not refused him because he had given her the choice between marriage or her father's death. It was the first of a lifetime of choices that she never truly was free to choose. 

"Why are you still up?" the drunk, snarling voice of Braghden demanded. 

"I couldn't sleep," Nimiar replied. He stepped closer, and her skin crawled. She no longer felt she could win a fight against him. He had the power, and she had been punished enough times.

"Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," she said. "I have been here all evening, doing all the things you would expect me to do."

She thought he might hit her. She thought of the mountain lions she had learned not to fear under the tutelage of her father, the great hunter; she thought of the extreme cold he had taught her to overcome. She thought also of the dragon, but then she pushed that thought from her mind, for it made her feel strangely sad. 

She did not fear what everyone else feared in the mountains, but she feared what everyone else feared in the King's Voice more than anyone else possibly could. 

But he did not hit her. She didn't want to wear out the mage's protection spell, she would need it in the future, but there was a baby to worry about now too, and she did not want to be hit. Instead, Braghden appeared to sober up suddenly, and softly said,

"The Festival of Fire comes with the next full moon."

"Yes," said Nimiar. She wondered where he was going with this. 

"As King of the village, I have the power to change the rituals as I please."

He had the habit of dropping the word Voice. He was the King's Voice. Nimiar had long since learned not to correct him. 

"Yes," she said slowly. Her sense of dread heightened. 

"A trusted mage and spy of mine has informed me that a dragon has been spotted near the cliffs by the sea."

Nimiar started at the word dragon, and tried not to let her shock show on her face.

"We will capture the dragon, and sacrifice it at the festival instead of the phoenix."

This time she couldn't prevent her eyes from widening. 

"Do you doubt that we can do it?" he asked with eyebrows raised.

She did doubt it, but she dared not challenge or contradict him. Perhaps the mages had the power, perhaps the soldiers had the strength; but she thought it a worse sacrilege to kill this beast than what those tasked with capturing the dragon would be said to have committed should they fail to provide a sacrifice for the festival. 

Nimiar knew well how Braghden would react if he didn't receive due reverence at the festival. For, of course, it was he himself who received the honour, in his eyes - not the gods. The gods would bow to him.

Nimiar knew this well, for it had been the downfall of her father when he had failed to provide a phoenix for the festival. And no one had believed them that a dragon had frightened away all the phoenix, for no one believed in dragons. But Nimiar had been there, and Nimiar knew the dragon had been real, and she had never forgotten the lonely, mourning tone of the dragon's song and its beauty and might as it had flown away. 

She knew she would not avoid this topic in this conversation, and she was right. 

"I will be the first to show our people that dragons exist," he went on, "and aside from those who capture it for me, and he who spotted it and has been watching it for me, I will be the first of our generation to ever see a dragon in these parts."

Nimiar said nothing. 

"Isn't that right, Nimiar? Isn't it right for me to be the first to encounter dragons again, which haven't been seen for so long that everyone believes them mere myth?"

He expected her to agree with him, and in doing so, she would denounce her father and the truth that Braghden wanted to be a lie, and she would insinuate her and her father's guilt from so long ago. 

"It would be right," she said. If it were true, she wanted to add, but she was tired.. so tired. She could not contradict him. 

"Yes, it would be," he echoed. "Whatever I say is right, is right."

He was gripping his hands hard. She looked at him, coldness and disgust in her heart. This man, who thought he could move mountains. Yet if he dared ever set foot in them, they would tear him apart and leave his bones to the dust of the wind. 

"I am tired, and I am going to bed now," Nimiar said then, and left immediately before he could stop her. 

In her bed, she was alone and safe again. For now. She thought about that day so long ago when her father had taken her into the mountains to hunt the phoenix for the festival, and they had seen a dragon. She thought often about that dragon. It was the most wondrous thing she had ever seen or imagined. She wondered if this newly spotted dragon was the very same one. She wondered if it would destroy the men sent to capture it, and what it would do afterwards. Would it attack the village? It wouldn't surprise her if Braghden brought about the destruction of his own village. She could imagine it in ashes, its smoke rising to the gods, who would receive it with contempt at the man who dared to presume he could be more powerful than they. 

It would not surprise her, but it frightened her. She thought of all the innocent families in the village, and she was afraid.

Seeing the dragon on the cliffs of the sea in her mind's eye also made her see again the image of her father's body pitched over the edge and into the sea. 

He had wanted to leave her a legacy of strength, of truth, and of freedom. He would not want to see her timidly cowering before her husband. And, worst of all, he would not want to see any grandchild of his in the hands of such an evil man. 

 He had taught her what she needed to know, and what she needed to do. But she had not yet found the courage to do it.

Nimiar put her hand on her belly and tried to imagine what her own mother would have done. The mother she barely remembered, but the mother her father had loved so dearly. She would draw her courage from her mother.. and from her own child.

There was no window here - the luxury of a window would be afforded to her whenever she went to bed with her husband - but she didn't have to look at the mountains to see them. She knew they were there. She had hunted in them so many times with her father and on her own that they were like a home to her. A great, dangerous home - but a more familiar and free home than what she was forced to call a home right now.

She knew what she had to do now. No child of hers would be born to this twisted father. And she would not wait to see what happened to her village if it was left to the mercy of an angry dragon. Her father had wanted a future for her, and he had given her the chance to take it.

She looked to the mountains in her mind, as she had been looking at them under the dripping moonlight before Braghden had come home.

They beckoned her, though they threatened; she could perish in the mountains. But that was why she had learned so well to survive them. And they offered her what she desperately needed - escape.

She could almost hear the sound of mountain lions screaming and the wind moaning, and above all she could remember that haunting song of the dragon. They were the voices of the mountains, and they demanded her now, but unlike Braghden they truly had majesty and power. They had truly earned her, and everyone's, respect.

She listened. It was as though they were saying to her now:

"Kings and gods have bowed to me. What makes you think you can refuse me?"