A Destiny of Death

This is a short creative exercise where I described a scene from the perspective of two characters, a soldier looking for vengeance, and a villain finally choosing her own destiny.

CW: suicide, blood, murder

There she stands, a jagged shadow against the sun setting over the battlefield. The outline of her armour is as sharp as her sword, the same sword she used to murder my parents. That day was the one where she sealed her fate. That day was when she became my sworn enemy. She is destined to die by my hand.

“Rivera!” I shout at her. She turns her head slowly to look down her nose at me.

“What do you want?” She speaks so casually. All this bloodshed is just a game to her.

“I want revenge!” I yell, “You doomed yourself on that summer’s day three years ago.”

“My sincerest apologies, which day?” I feel tears spring to my eyes at her sarcastic dismissal.

“The day you killed my parents! Don’t you pretend you don’t remember it.” She stares right through me, as if I am nothing to her.

“You are not the first one to approach me on this battlefield with those exact words. You must be more specific.”

“It was the day you determined your fate.” She pauses, relishing in the moment.

“My fate is not determined.” she replies, “I will decide my fate.” The audacity! She thinks she is so powerful, so special, that she can ignore the consequences of her actions? Rivera turns her back to me and sheathes her sword. She is underestimating me. I carefully make my way up the rise towards her and dive forward to plunge my sword into her. It pushes through the seam of her armour plates and I drive it upwards, impaling her chest. She chokes and stumbles, collapsing into me. I buckle under the weight and kneel down. Finally, I have slain her. Her head rolls back and through blood-sputtering lips she says, “Thank you,” and dies. What? I can’t move. I can’t think. Why did she say thank you? The sun finally sets.

---

The sun is setting behind me as I scan the field littered with bodies. Thousands of people who need not have died. And yet it is my blade their blood is dripping from. I knew this would end badly when the king gave me my orders, but this is too much. I have hurt too many people, and for what? These are the king’s soldiers too. Why waste so many good people to prove I am the villain the kingdom already believes I am?

“Rivera!” someone calls my name. I look down the slope to see a battered soldier with pain in her eyes. A survivor of the ‘enemy’ army. I don’t want to kill another person.

“What do you want?” I ask with a pang of plea in my voice. I just want to rest.

“I want revenge! You doomed yourself on that summer’s day three years ago.” Summer. Three years ago? That was rather long ago, and I have travelled far and wide since then.

“My sincerest apologies,” I say, cursing my bad memory, “Which day?” The soldier shifts slightly and winces as they agitate a wound.

“The day you killed my parents!” she yells, “Don’t you pretend you don’t remember it.” My focus fazes out as I try to think back. I have hurt so many people; this madam’s parents could be any of them.

“You are not the first to approach me on this battlefield with those exact words. You must be more specific.”

“It was the day you determined your fate.” That one caught me by surprise. My fate? What is my fate? To continue the rest of my life as a tool of slaughter? To exist in infamy as the reason the kingdom needs a king? I do not want that. I refuse to be that.

“My fate is not determined,” I reply as I turn my back to her. “I will decide my fate.” I sheathe my sword and whisper to myself, but also the soldier, “I’m sorry,” and say my last prayers. The soldier approaches, then the sword cuts into my chest. I stumble back and she lowers me gently to the ground. I look up at her teary face and thank her, before drifting away. The sun finally sets.