War Rant

So, today, I was hit with a book idea for yet another book in The Unnamed Chronicles series.  So far, I have The Unnamed Legend, Sword of a Princess, The Division, The Adopted, The Search, and this new book now, apparently!  The first three are in the correct order, but I'm unsure about the last three.  Sword of a Princess and The Division are finished, but for an author's edit, then sending to the editor, then another author read through to fix little things here and there.
Anyway, this book idea hit me and then a scene that is obviously near the middle of the book hit me even harder, so I frantically wrote it and yelled at people who were trying to get me to Skype, telling them they obviously did not love me, if they intended to make me quit writing while I was so extremely inspired...and...well...here it is:

            Axel grabbed Dalia in his arms and crushed her to himself, holding her tightly.

            “Axel….”  She said softly, and he let her pull back to look at his face.

            “What do you get out of this when you hold me like that?”

            He looked at her a moment, his dark eyes broken.  “Solidity.  Promise that what I’m doing is right.  Knowing what I’m fighting for, seeing who I’m fighting for.  I am fighting for you…for your mother…for a girl I don’t know…for little boys and girls who want their fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins to come home!”

            She lightly touched his black hair, “It seems so wrong though….”

            “Seems wrong?  It is wrong, Dalia!  It’s war!  War is wrong!  It is terrible!  Horrendous…gruesome…wrong…wrong…wrong...wrongwrongwrong!  I have seen things, Dalia!”  He grabbed her face and looked wildly into her eyes, “I have seen things no one, man, woman, girl, boy or animal should ever see!  I have done things no one should do!”

            He drew his dagger and held it before her, “I have taken this very weapon…and plunged it into the heart of a boy…maybe even younger than me….  Dalia…he has a family…he has a mother.  A father.  People who care about him.  And I killed him.  Why?  Because if I didn’t…he would kill me.

            “I see the horror in your eyes….  Do you know why I do this, Dalia?  Do you know why?”

            She shook her head, backing slightly away from him.

            “Because I want peace.”  He laughed bitterly, “Peace!  To get peace I have to kill or be killed!  But one thing I have learned since the beginning of this war…I will never get peace…but all I can hope is that by sacrificing my self peace…I can give peace to people like you…and your mother…and your children someday, because you will have children.  You will get married, you will have children…and hopefully they can be raised in a place that has peace.

            “Ulatora!  It’s known for its peace!  Anemonia?  Peaceful!  Gloris?  Peaceful!  Armitty?  Peaceful!  These places are all known for being peaceful!  Do you know what started this war, Dalia?  This thing that has taken both your father and mine, as well as my sanity?”

            Again, she shook her head.

            He laughed slightly, gritting his teeth.  “The Anemonian princess…daughter of Queen Luna and King Piar, Princess Angelina…she came to Ulatora one day, and met our dear Prince Antony, may he forever rest in peace.  They became great friends.  Very great.  And before she returned home, they slept together.”

            Dalia’s eyes widened, “But—”

            He held up a hand and continued, “They slept together and she became pregnant.  She was already betrothed to a knight in her country, imagine how that must have seemed!  Her brother, Prince Fredrik was so angry.  He wouldn’t listen to her when she said that it was as much her fault as Antony’s.  She tried to say that they could get married, and have an alliance in the kingdom.  No one listened to her.  Her brother came to Ulatora…peacefully and slit the throat of our prince.

            “Did he have a good reason?”  Axel shrugged, “I suppose it depends on who you ask.  All I know is that Prince Axel, for who I was named, was angry and demanded vengeance.  And that is what started this war.  Love or at least what two people thought was love, started a war fueled by hate.”  He laughed bitterly, “Ironic, isn’t it?”

            Dalia lightly touched his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

            “Wanna know something else ironic?”

            “Um…sure.”

            “My name?  The name of our prince who started the fighting?  Our names mean ‘peace’.  Peace, Dalia!  Is this peace?  I joined the war to avenge my father!  I glorified the war.  I will never do so again.”

            Dalia wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her for a long time, as he clung to his piece of peace.

            When at last, they let go of each other, he desperately told her, “I just want the war to be over, Dalia.  I want to pursue the woman I love.  I want to start a family…in peace.  I don’t want my children to live in fear of their home being torched and burnt to the ground.  But unless this war ends…that will only be a dream…never a reality.

            “Dalia…the people we kill…they’re humans too.  Some of them feel the same way we do.  One Anemonian boy, we passed each other…and the way he looked at me mirrored the way my reflection does.  We paused a moment, then nodded and went on…neither one of us being injured by the other.

            “I wanted to be a poet and weave poems to make people cry with joy…poems to paint beauty and happiness…but now when I try to create poetry, it either falls flat or shows darkness, hate, pain, fire, blood…things I feel are a description of Hell….

            “I wanted to study under the masters.  I don’t think I could do that now, Dalia.”

            She pulled him back into an embrace once more.  “Once, an Anemonian woman came to visit…she was selling scarves and she told me about her god…and he seems good.  Sometimes I pray to him.  You should pray to him too…pray for him to give you peace.  I do that sometimes…and I always feel better.”

            “What’s her god’s name?”

            Dalia’s brow furrowed, “I asked that too.  She said that he has a lot of names, but you can just call him God.”

            “What are some of his names?”

            “Um…I think one was El Shaddai…something about God Almighty.  El Roi.  God Who Hears.  I don’t know.  There’s a lot.  And they mostly start with El.”

            “I’ll think about it.”  He told her, removing himself from her arms.  “I’m sorry for burdening you with my pain, Dalia…I don’t want you to know these horrors…I want you to always remain as your name says…gentle…which…”  he smiled a bit, “you’ve proven you can be a bit of a wild one, but you are always gentle with those you care for.  I want you to stay that way.  Not go charging out like I did and attempt revenge.”

            She nodded, and pushed his black hair out of his eyes.

            “I’m going to the woods for a bit, Dalia.  I love you.”

            Her mind kicked into overdrive as he walked away…he had never made any proclamations of love toward her before.  But quickly, she pushed those thoughts away, there was no reason to be having these thoughts during a war.

© 2015 Katie Holm