Sacrifices with Weapons

"You know we might not come back, right?" Moti had raised his head to look at his dear friend. Round eyes, brown dreadlocks left hanging carelessly. The shine in her brown eyes had been deemed, leaving them looking dull and empty.

"Which is why I cannot afford to have you following me, Eshe" Moti had begged his childhood friend, hoping for once, she would listen to him.

"Which is why I must follow you," She had cried out laughing off as if it was such a huge joke for her to drive herself to death.

"Eshe," Moti had tried to reprimand her, but she had shushed him with her small hands before he could speak any further. "Mama will try to marry me off to the Western Tribe if I make it till Spring. What better way to run from marriage other than dying honourably?" she questioned popping her head to the side.

Eshe was the daughter of the military structure of the Crystal tribe. She loved to spend most of her days idling around and drinking alcohol with Moti when she wasn't fighting war.

Her, going to the borders with Moti was supposed to be a punishment, her parents hoped she would realise just how the outside world was hush and all her life she had been living a life of luxury and comfort.

Yet they hadn't expected her to love being a warrior as much, only for her to rise to the rankings at such a short time, causing her to become more arrogant and live a life of rouges.

The Crystal tribe wasn't strict with their ladies, especially ladies of the military. However, she was afterall the daughter of the distinguished Prince Arno, the grand Duke of Great Arno. She was at least a noble, a relative of the royal family, who had been given her princess ranking by the late king himself while she was still in her mother's womb. Whom she had been calling grandfather.

"This is not a joke Eshe. I think Aunt has been nothing but linient to you," he hit her head with his hand hoping he could bring her to her senses.

"Says the person who reprimanded the Great King of Arnol to punishment," she whispered, "I think first Uncle has been nothing but linient to you," she whispered hoping the people nearby don't hear.

Before Moti could react, a helper had come to put more wine on their table, before wishing them a nice meal.

Their table had been full of wine and chicken. Eshe, the lady she was, she had leaned to take a wine bottle, not caring to use the cup infront of her.

They had been regulars at the restaurant. They could only not have been able to get as drunk the past few days because of Moti's punishment.

But Moti's punishment was lifted as soon as they had heard of the rampage Lwazi was causing. After they had watched their horses galloping to the direction of the Blue Valley's direction.

As the Crowned prince, the King had told him this would be the chance for him to build a name for himself, so people could adore him more, and his reign could be smooth when his time came.

Of course he didn't know, him following Lwazi to the Blue Valley was part of his father's scheme. His father had for years, hoped that his neighbours could finally find the grave so he could have an excuse to send Moti to inherit the power instead.

But inheriting the power did not just happen because you were the descended. You had to be chosen by natural law, or be born as so at birth. If not, you would face the fury of the dead.

Before Moti and Eshe had been at the Red Gaze restaurant. There had been a meeting where most elders and important ministers had been called.

At the royal hall, there was a chair set up high, empty, whilst below was another chair where the king set. Below him, was a row of chairs that made a mini circle, directed straight to the door. Those chairs was where the royal council set. Below this chairs, were the chairs of the ministers at the lower ground, facing the stools of the Royal council and the King.

Some might have wondered why the highest chair remained empty. The chair was of the Royal Spirit, which contained much more powered beyond imaginable.

At the meeting, Moti had received his orders to stop Lwazi from inheriting their Spirit Power. Because if so, their two kingdoms would be united and they would have Lwazi as their male Monarch.

"Father, Lwazi could never be able to inherit our Queens family-" Moti had been cut off by an elder who had silently hushed him from speaking any further when he tried to explain how impossible it was for Lwazi to inherit his maternal family's power.

"Some things child are too grave to be brought up, hence, they were buried to die with our generation," The grand Duke of great Arno had explained. he had been sitting at the royal council's chairs, looking just as mighty as the other.

"I understand royal uncle," Moti had bowed, to his uncle showing his sincerity. He knew by these words it meant; what he thought he knew wasn't it. And that he could not ask any questions because that would cause a turmoil within their kingdom.

"Should you find Lwazi, kill him, if you fail, inherit the power," his father had ordered causing Moti to raise his head from shock, and the ministers to whisper among each other. Moti was too stunned to speak, whilst the Prime Minister had risen from his chair at the lower stage to question the King, "Your highness?" he had yelled from shock, whilst he kneeled in sync to apologise for his actions.

However, the King had just made a signal for the prime minister to again take a sit in his chair. "Should you wish for the neighbouring crowned prince to be the one to inherit our power?" he questioned patiently.

"no but-" the Prime minister was interrupted by the second chair of the royal council, which belonged to Princess Zuri, who's mouth had a tint of Rosebery colour. Her eyes striking black, and seeming as fearless. Her carelessly hanging dreadlocks giving her a strange manly seductive look.

"We are aware of your queries Prime Minister, and I promise, we have just the same concerns," she had interrupted, her honey voice lacing authority and reasoning.

She had glanced at Moti who remained just as shocked. She pitied her nephew, who seemed too nervous to put on his arrogant air.

She had carried on to say, "Moti is after all the crowned prince, we would never just send him to die for greed. If he successfully kills the Prince he returns with victory, if he fails, he inherits the power, still returning with victory to take his rightful place above his father's head," she had explained arrogantly, not forgetting to put a slight shade on her brother. Reminding him that, if the mission of Moti was a success, he would afterall have someone above him.

Suddenly remembering the events of yesterday, Moti had taken the wine from Eshe's hands, drinking all of it carefully making sure to swallow as much as he could.

"Heyy," Eshe had whined, feeling frustrated and distraught to have her wine take from her. But after seeing Moti's gaze, she suddenly understood he needed it more than she did. She came to a conclusion that all that seemed to be, never really was, "you know, you are the noble crowned prince that enjoys all the wealth, fame and respect. But non could have guessed that you're nothing but a sacrifice for power, " she had exclaimed taking back her wine bottle from him. Drinking as much herself, hoping Moti didn't notice the sympathy in her voice.

Moti had laughed hearing such words from his only friend. Finding her words to be as painful and truthful. Seeming to see a side of her he didn't know she had that night.

The stars twinkling so brightly at night. Moti had taken Eshe by her hand, hoping to admire the galaxy with her at the roof. He had jumped with her, sitting down, taking the bottle at her hands to take a drink, giving it back to her. Dump founded, Eshe had taken a sit next to him, drinking, and admiring the stars along with him, just before she gave the wine back to him.

Moti had drank before staring at her friend who had been admiring the stars so lovingly. He suddenly remembered all her grievances. How her life had seemed pretty, yet was nothing close.

"And you may seem like a noble spoilt princess who enjoys all the wealth and splendor, but non could have guessed, you're nothing but a weapon," he had said, whilst still staring at her face, which seemed so soft, that he might have wanted to touch it. Her side view was the prettiest, he had always thought. She was the smartest, and could be a little dump sometimes, with her willfulness, and obsession with dying an honourable death. Why did he suddenly think those, he might have wondered.

Yet, inbetween the thoughts in his head, and the painful urge from his heart, he suddenly didn't care, all he wanted was to admire her beauty and arrogance.

Eshe had held her breath without knowing after hearing such words from Moti. Curious to see his face, maybe it held mockery because that's all he seemed to do to her. But, however, she was shocked by his sincerity, and bewildered to find that he was already looking at her.

She had found herself feeling a sense of warmth to know someone could see beyond her lavish life. Of course he would, they drove the same boat and nearly sank within the same waves. Such was the life of nobles and Royals. Constant pain and suffering and lots of scheming.

She did not know why she was suddenly adamant on following him to the darkest nights, but she was ready and willing. She had suddenly realised how much he meant to her, and just how she was content with how a great friend she was to him. She had drank the wine in her hand, giving it to him for another drink. "We drive the same boat and sink within the same sea, please quit trying to leave me behind," she had begged him, hoping she could be there to be the weapon he would yield.

"Eshe, my boat is sinking, I cannot be selfish to actually-" Moti's words were disrupted by Eshe's unwillingness to give up.

"Moti, if your sinking boat fails to make it to the surface, trust that I'll remain at the bottom of the waves with you," she had told him as if assuring him. It was more than just assurance, it was a threat. He had to understand that, wherever he went, she would go. She fought alongside him, went to the most dangerous missions with him, he couldn't leave her now.

But,

why did Moti find these words unbearable, painful and yet, still sweet? Why did he suddenly wish to protect her with all his might? Why did he now feel so hot and his breathing unwillingly stop? Was he prepared to be the sacrifice to keep her boat afloat?

Of course, maybe, he was. Maybe he was willing to not only give up his ride. Maybe he was willing to give himself as well. Maybe, he would willingly be the sacrifice for her, as she remained his weapon.