Chapter Hundred-and-Forty-Eight
**Third Person POV**
Napoleon fell hard on the marble floor. In his already weakened state, the fall should have been enough to kill anybody but King Napoleon was not anybody.
“Guards, carry my father back to his bed and who the hell is in charge of his care? How can they let that happen?” demanded Emily with an angry voice.
Guards came out of their station and carried King Napoleon away. Princess Emily adjourned court so she could go up to see her father. He was on his deathbed and he could still make her skin crawl.
“Emily! I wondered when you might stop by,” for someone who had just fallen down very hard, he had a lot of strength. It took everything in Emily not to lunge for her father's throat. He had kept their birth mother a secret for many years and worst, he had deliberately ensured that they hated her.
“Everyone should leave us now,” said Emily. The guards and the healers in the room needed no prodding. If the cold princess had to repeat herself, they would be on their deathbeds too.
“Why? Why did you not say a word?” asked Emily. Since Sandra had thrown herself into the water, it was all she could think about. She could remember all the times she had spent hating the woman who had given birth to her. She could not forgive herself for working Sandra to her death.
“Why do you think so?” he smiled wickedly. Emily shook her head. How could he be so tone-deaf even now? How come he did not realise that she was hurting, that she was grieving?
“Those children… all your children… you killed them. You killed them because they were girls but us… you made us live, why?” questioned Emily, somewhat scared of what the answer might be or at least hoping in some way that her father in his dark twisted way had loved Sandra.
“Sandra understood me… she understood my rage. She cleaned up my bloody trail so no one knew about me,” Napoleon smiled widely as he said this.
“So I asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted princesses so I gave her that,” continued Napoleon.
“She wanted us?”
“She changed after having Harriet. She wanted to let you know she was… she wanted to stop cleaning up my bloody trail but I stopped her by asking her this: Dearest Sandra, if you die now, who will clean up Harry's mushy brains on the marble tile,” King Napoleon laughed deeply; it was the sort of laugh that sent horror through a person. It was so horrifying that Emily told her father to stop talking. She had heard enough and she could bear to hear no more.
“It was her last sacrifice. If she could not do it then there would be no more princesses. I did not think she had it in her. What a waste of…” Emily ran outside the room. She could not listen to what her father had to say anymore. He was dark and twisted and just evil. He had never loved them; he had just been using them for his sick entertainment.
“Em? Are you alright?” Harriet asked in a deeply worried tone. She had never seen such a look of horror on her sister's face before.
“Em, you are scaring me,” said Harriet, deeply worried that something had gone wrong.
“Father… He's he's, I cannot believe he… he has no good in him. Harriet, he's, he's a monster. Why is he a monster? How is a monster our father? Are we… we monsters too?” Emily's face was wet with tears. Harriet, who did not know what else to do, hugged her until her eyes were dry.
“I will go in there and when I come out, father will have joined his ancestors,” Emily said in a strong voice.
“Em?”
“Just trust me, Harriet, okay?”
“Of course, I trust you.”
Emily re-entered her father's room.
He was moaning in pain as though he had just begun to feel the full extent of his injuries.
“Send the physicians… I need pain…pain killers, Em, Emily…”
“You need to begin your hell from here. Those babies you smashed on the grounds, they had nothing to kill their pain,” came Emily's response.
“You will kill your own father?”
“I hold no sword nor have I fed you poison,” she was calm as she said this.
“Do you expect me to beg? To grovel? Do you want me to beg you? The daughter of a lowly maid?” he gave a wicked laugh when he asked this.
Emily said nothing.
He continued to groan in pain but Emily made no effort to move.
She stayed there in silence and watched his soul depart his body.
When it was done, she left the room to see Harriet waiting by the door.
“It is done,” she told her sister.
There were no tears to shed. In fact, there was to be no mourning that day because Emily refused to announce his death when it happened. She did not do so because Napoleon did not deserved tears; fake or real.
“Is he?” It was their grandmother who had joined them.
“Yes,” returned Emily, her voice void of emotions.
The three women looked at each other and said nothing.
They were free.
It was not until the next day that Emily announced to the world that King Napoleon was dead. The noble ministers and the general public received the news with mixed emotions. Since Napoleon had ascended the throne there had been a lot of tension but no one had the guts to question his authority because he was quick to send people to their deaths. He had turned his people into his slaves so that they paid heavy taxes and did exactly as he bid them to do.
Not many people felt relief, however. They believed that the cold princess would continue in the same tradition as her father or maybe even worse than her predecessor.
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