Ash Upon the Crown

***Nicholas***

When I woke, the world smelled of smoke. It clung to everything, the sheets, my skin, the air itself, thick and suffocating. For a long moment I couldn’t move. The room tilted when I tried, the edges of my vision blurring to black. Something warm trickled down my side, and I realized the bandages had come loose. The pain arrived next, sharp, deep, curling behind my ribs like fire. I tried to speak, but only a rasp came out.

“Lie still, my lord.”

A voice, familiar, trembling, came from somewhere near the door. I turned my head and saw Sir Renic kneeling beside the bed, his armor scorched, his face streaked with soot. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“How long?” I managed.
“Three nights, maybe four,” he said quietly. “You’ve been drifting in and out. We didn’t think…” He stopped himself. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

Lucky. The word stung worse than the wound. I forced myself to sit, ignoring the pain. My throat burned as if I’d swallowed embers.

“Where’s my mother?”

Renic didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“Renic,” I said, my voice sharper this time.
“She’s gone, my lord.”

The words hit like a cannonball. For a moment, I didn’t breathe. I could hear the faint sounds of movement outside, the crack of timber, the low murmur of voices, but they all seemed far away.

“My sister?” I asked. My voice was barely more than a whisper.
“She was seen with a guard, heading toward the port during the raid. The shipyard burned soon after. We found nothing.”

I stared past him at the shattered window. Outside, the once-green hills of Vespera were blackened, the air still hazy with smoke. My castle, my home, looked like a corpse of stone and ash. My father’s blood still stained the throne room floor. Blackthorn. The name surfaced in my mind like something poisonous rising from the deep. I remembered the sound of his voice, that cold certainty, the look in his eyes before everything went dark.

Renic shifted uncomfortably, watching me. “The lower town’s overrun. Blackthorn’s men are looting what’s left. We’ve pushed them back to the docks, but we don’t have the strength to take it all.”
“Who’s leading them?” I asked.
“A man they call Redd. One of Blackthorn’s lieutenants.”
I clenched my jaw. “The villagers?”
“Scattered. Many fled to the hills when the fires started. Some were taken.”

I closed my eyes, pressing my hand to my temple. The throbbing behind my eyes felt like the sea itself beating against my skull.

“Fetch my sword,” I said finally.
“My lord, you’re in no state...”
“Now, Renic.”

He hesitated, then nodded and crossed the room. The blade leaned against the wall beside the bed, still smeared with blood, my blood, and my father’s, and maybe Blackthorn’s too. When he placed it in my hands, it felt heavier than I remembered.

“I should have killed him,” I muttered.
“You were lucky to survive at all,” Renic said. “The blow he dealt would’ve killed a lesser man.”

I stared at the sword, my reflection rippling faintly along the steel. My father’s voice echoed in my mind , A king’s burden isn’t the crown, Nicholas. It’s what he must carry beneath it. Now, I carried everything. I swung my legs off the bed, wincing as the movement pulled at my wound. My queen was at my side in an instant. The floor was cold beneath my feet, gritty with ash. Outside the door, the corridors smelled of burnt wood and death. Servants passed us, their faces pale, their eyes hollow. Some carried buckets of water, others armfuls of salvaged linens or food. When they saw me, they stopped and bowed.

“My lord, you should rest,” one whispered.
“There’s no time for rest,” I said.

We reached the great hall. Or what was left of it. The once-golden banners now hung in tatters. The stone pillars were blackened, the marble floor streaked with soot. Light filtered weakly through the broken roof. There, at the far end of the room, my father’s throne. I stopped at the foot of the dais, staring at the bloodstain. Renic stood behind me in silence.

“He took my mother and sister while I lay bleeding.”
“He’ll pay for it, my lord.”
I turned to him. “He already has what he wanted. The ship. The power. He won’t stop now. He’ll take everything, the sea, the trade, the ports, the crown if he can.”
Renic met my gaze. “Then we’ll stop him.”

I wanted to believe him. When I looked out through the shattered archway at the blackened city below, I saw only ruin. Smoke curled from the lower streets, where the fire still smoldered. The sound of distant shouting echoed faintly across the courtyard. Blackthorn’s men were still down there, still looting what they hadn’t burned.

I tightened my grip on the sword. “Get every man we have left. Form a line along the southern wall. Drive them back to the docks before dawn.”

Renic nodded and turned to leave.

“Renic,” I said.

He stopped.

“Find the bodies,” I said quietly. “All of them. Bring them to the chapel. No one else will be buried in ash.”
He bowed his head. “As you command.”

When he was gone, I sank to one knee before the throne. The smell of smoke and salt filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of blood that no fire could burn away. My hand brushed against the edge of the step, where something glinted in the dim light, a small piece of broken glass, stained red. My father’s signet ring had shattered. I picked it up and closed my fist around it.

“I’ll make this right,” I whispered. “I swear it.”

Outside, thunder rolled faintly over the sea, though no storm showed on the horizon. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the tide to turn. Tides only obeyed the moon. Men like Blackthorn obeyed nothing at all. I rose, every movement a reminder of the wound that hadn’t yet healed. Beyond the courtyard, the lower town still burned. The once-white sails of Vespera’s harbor were now black with soot, the masts silhouetted against the orange haze.

For the first time since waking, I felt the cold of fear settle deep inside me. Not for myself, but for what might come next. For the child my mother had carried from this place. For the blood that bound us all to Blackthorn’s vengeance. The sea wind tore through the broken windows, scattering ash across the throne room floor. I watched it drift for a long while, the particles catching the faint light like dying embers. Then I turned toward the sound of steel clashing below, faint but growing. The battle for what remained of my kingdom had already begun.