The Throne

The doors slammed open and the guards pushed the prisoner forward. Head bowed, back hunched, hands bound. He was drenched and caked with mud, his clothes torn; he looked near death. As the guards shoved him to the ground before the throne, Helena was affronted by the smell of him. Earth and sea, waste and decay. He not only looked near death but reeked of it. He seemed to want it. Helena glanced briefly at her guards.

“Leave us,” she demanded. Their footsteps scuffed the ground as they departed. The door clanged shut. The prisoner panted before her throne, mud and water dripping from him onto the clean marble floor. Helena pitied him a moment. The stench of him brought her back to the issue at present.

“Do you know why you were brought here?”

Silence.

“My father did not tolerate criminals, nor will I. You have proved yourself most vile. Are you satisfied?”

The man sighed.

“Almost a decade ago, you were found guilty of treason and exiled,” Helena continued. “Yet you commit this most heinous act. What I don’t understand…” She trembled and wiped her hands on her skirts. The man did not lift his head nor show any response he knew she was there. Helena stood and paced the dais.

“What I don’t understand is that you were exiled. You hate this kingdom so much, yet you were given what you wanted. Banishment. Why act out? Why do this?”

The only sound was water dripping on the floor.

“Look at me,” she said.

He did not.

“Look at me!”

His head snapped up. Greasy hair framed a sailor’s weathered face, but his eyes shone blue through the filth. Eyes she remembered vividly.

“You have been found guilty of murder…” She took a shaky breath, “of our king and a most beloved father.” Her voice cracked.

His eyes betrayed no remorse.

“What do you say to this?” she asked.

Seconds passed as Helena waited. His eyes bore into her, made her shake. She looked away.

At last he spoke.

“Seven years on the sea and I could not forget you. Rough waters and solitude… I felt myself going mad.”

He observed the shackles on his wrists.

“I thought of those months in the summer,” he continued. “Before he sent me away. They gave me solace.”

Helena dared look at him.

“You and I both know he wasn’t beloved. You suffered at his hands. He deserved it. I knew I’d be sent to the gallows. I was counting on it because it meant I’d need a royal sentencing.”

Helena couldn’t compose herself; she tried to hide the tears.

“I regret nothing. Helena--”

She sobbed.

“I only wanted one chance to see you again,” he said. “You were worth it.”

She forced herself to look at him. The man she once loved, who betrayed her and her kingdom, who left her. Now he knelt before her crying as she did before him. He was too late, but, then again, it was always going to be this way. Nothing about them could change. Both headstrong, passionate lovers. He was a disgraced noble, she a royal. Their ideals pitted them against one another; they were doomed from the start.

Helena recovered herself, wiped her tears and paced before the prisoner. They both knew how this was going to end.

“Guards!” Helena called. The prisoner swiveled toward the hall doors. Helena sat on her throne and turned her gaze upon him. He turned back and she held his blue eyes with hers as the doors groaned open. The soldiers entered.

“You’re the only man I’ve ever loved,” she murmured.

The prisoner cried once more. The guards approached and laid hands on him, and stood him upright with ease. Helena held her head high.

“Elias Laurence Selborne, you have been found guilty of our kingdom’s most heinous acts. Grand larceny, treason, and murder. These are punishable by death. Do you have anything to say?”

Elias said nothing, only looked at Helena one last time.

Her voice wavered as she addressed him. “By the power vested in me, I sentence you to die.”

Elias’s face betrayed no emotion as the soldiers hauled him out of the throne room. Helena watched as he disappeared again, her hands clutching the arms of her throne.