Week 7 Story: The War of Thirteen Years
For thirteen years, Kings Amari and Khalil waged war. The fighting had begun when King Amari’s sister, the princess, was mysteriously killed by thieves while traveling in Khalil’s kingdom. Amari made the assumption that the other king must have organized this assassination. Khalil was offended by the theory and the two began to inflict their wrath on the other.
Thousands of soldiers died in the battles they waged. Citizens were taxed and forced to join the fighting. At first, most of the residents didn’t mind this. The princess who died had been kind and very giving to the people while she was alive. They wanted to see her avenged. King Khalil’s people were outraged at the accusations and taunts from the other kingdom. But over time, both sides grew tired. Most had forgotten why the war was even started. Only the kings remained determined in their rage.
King Amari had a single son who was very skilled with a bow as well as the sword. He was an incredible fighter and slew many on the front lines of his father’s battles. But one day, he was wounded gravely on the battlefield. Amari saw that his boy bled the same color blood as every other fallen soldier. His son was no god and he would die for this war like the sons of many other men. The best medical physicians in the kingdom were called upon to save the wounded prince. They deemed that he might live, but would never be able to fight the way he had before his injuries.
The king’s mother wept over her grandson’s healing body and demanded an audience with Amari. With tears still streaming down her face, she told her son that the fighting must stop. The king did not speak at first. He had been shaken by nearly losing his only child.
“I too am tired of the death. But how can we stop now? All of these years and lives will have been a waste. Have you forgotten why we started? I do not enjoy war, but your own daughter, my sister, was murdered in King Khalil’s kingdom,” he said, raking a hand through his graying hair.
She sat herself down on the couch and began, “I must tell you something I should have told you long ago. When your father died, he made me promise to never speak of it again. But I worry if I don’t tell you now, we will lose everything.
“Many years ago, your father had a slip in judgement. He was having a difficult time settling down and adjusting to the weight of the Crown. He had an affair with a woman from the neighboring kingdom. Weeks later, she visited with her husband, the king. She had not told your father of her identity. She slipped him a note confessing that she was pregnant and believed the baby to be his. When the child was born, he had your father’s striking blue eyes and ink black hair. I recognized him immediately and confronted your father. He admitted to everything.”
Amari stared at the ground, “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”
The queen mother looked up at him, “Oh, darling you’ve never been a stupid man. You know why. The child was Khalil. His father likely knew he was not his own, but his wife never produced another heir. The man you’ve been fighting all of these years is your half-brother.”
Amari couldn’t breathe. He stormed out of the room. Either his mother was lying to him now, or she had hidden this from him his whole life. He chose to believe the first possibility and mounted his best horse to ride into battle. He carved his way through Khalil’s men until he could see the king himself slashing away. As Amari raced toward him, time seemed to slow and he noticed Khalil’s eyes. His mother had been right. Khalil’s eyes were the exact shade of his father’s and his own. The shape of his jaw and thick black hair were the same as well. He knew his mother spoke the truth and he felt such grief that he’d spent so many years hating this man who was his brother. He jerked the reigns until his horse came to a stop.
King Khalil looked up at this moment. He saw Amari paused in the middle of the battlefield. Blood was being shed all around them, but the two brothers just stared at each other. Khalil noticed that the other king did not have hatred or rage on his face. His brows were turned up in an expression of confusion and sadness. Khalil held up a fist and screamed for the fighting to halt. Every man stopped in his tracks and looked at the two kings, a mere twenty feet from one another. They slowly approached the midpoint between them. Amari held a hand out to Khalil. He looked down at the offered hand and back up at Amari’s face.
“Let us please stop this fighting. My mother has just confessed to me that we are brothers. It sounds false, but when I look at you, I see my father clearly in your features. I wish to speak with you about peace and compromise,” Amari said with pleading eyes.
Khalil looked thoughtful, but shook his brother’s hand. After that day, there was no more fighting. Peace and prosperity was shared between the two kingdoms. The brothers worked hard to make up for their mistakes. They sought forgiveness from each other and the people of their kingdoms. And then, all was well.
Thousands of soldiers died in the battles they waged. Citizens were taxed and forced to join the fighting. At first, most of the residents didn’t mind this. The princess who died had been kind and very giving to the people while she was alive. They wanted to see her avenged. King Khalil’s people were outraged at the accusations and taunts from the other kingdom. But over time, both sides grew tired. Most had forgotten why the war was even started. Only the kings remained determined in their rage.
King Amari had a single son who was very skilled with a bow as well as the sword. He was an incredible fighter and slew many on the front lines of his father’s battles. But one day, he was wounded gravely on the battlefield. Amari saw that his boy bled the same color blood as every other fallen soldier. His son was no god and he would die for this war like the sons of many other men. The best medical physicians in the kingdom were called upon to save the wounded prince. They deemed that he might live, but would never be able to fight the way he had before his injuries.
The king’s mother wept over her grandson’s healing body and demanded an audience with Amari. With tears still streaming down her face, she told her son that the fighting must stop. The king did not speak at first. He had been shaken by nearly losing his only child.
“I too am tired of the death. But how can we stop now? All of these years and lives will have been a waste. Have you forgotten why we started? I do not enjoy war, but your own daughter, my sister, was murdered in King Khalil’s kingdom,” he said, raking a hand through his graying hair.
She sat herself down on the couch and began, “I must tell you something I should have told you long ago. When your father died, he made me promise to never speak of it again. But I worry if I don’t tell you now, we will lose everything.
“Many years ago, your father had a slip in judgement. He was having a difficult time settling down and adjusting to the weight of the Crown. He had an affair with a woman from the neighboring kingdom. Weeks later, she visited with her husband, the king. She had not told your father of her identity. She slipped him a note confessing that she was pregnant and believed the baby to be his. When the child was born, he had your father’s striking blue eyes and ink black hair. I recognized him immediately and confronted your father. He admitted to everything.”
Amari stared at the ground, “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”
The queen mother looked up at him, “Oh, darling you’ve never been a stupid man. You know why. The child was Khalil. His father likely knew he was not his own, but his wife never produced another heir. The man you’ve been fighting all of these years is your half-brother.”
Amari couldn’t breathe. He stormed out of the room. Either his mother was lying to him now, or she had hidden this from him his whole life. He chose to believe the first possibility and mounted his best horse to ride into battle. He carved his way through Khalil’s men until he could see the king himself slashing away. As Amari raced toward him, time seemed to slow and he noticed Khalil’s eyes. His mother had been right. Khalil’s eyes were the exact shade of his father’s and his own. The shape of his jaw and thick black hair were the same as well. He knew his mother spoke the truth and he felt such grief that he’d spent so many years hating this man who was his brother. He jerked the reigns until his horse came to a stop.
King Khalil looked up at this moment. He saw Amari paused in the middle of the battlefield. Blood was being shed all around them, but the two brothers just stared at each other. Khalil noticed that the other king did not have hatred or rage on his face. His brows were turned up in an expression of confusion and sadness. Khalil held up a fist and screamed for the fighting to halt. Every man stopped in his tracks and looked at the two kings, a mere twenty feet from one another. They slowly approached the midpoint between them. Amari held a hand out to Khalil. He looked down at the offered hand and back up at Amari’s face.
“Let us please stop this fighting. My mother has just confessed to me that we are brothers. It sounds false, but when I look at you, I see my father clearly in your features. I wish to speak with you about peace and compromise,” Amari said with pleading eyes.
Khalil looked thoughtful, but shook his brother’s hand. After that day, there was no more fighting. Peace and prosperity was shared between the two kingdoms. The brothers worked hard to make up for their mistakes. They sought forgiveness from each other and the people of their kingdoms. And then, all was well.
Author's Note:
In the Mahabharata, Arjuna and Karna are half brothers. At first they don't know this, and develop a sort of petty grudge against one another. Once they find out their relation to one another, they don't stop their fighting. If anything, they try harder to kill each other. This really bothered me. I thought that sharing blood would at least make them stop and think about what they were doing. I wanted to change their story so that they decided to drop their grudges instead of killing each other. Also, in the Mahabharata, Arjuna's son dies in battle. Keeping with the theme of people not dying, I chose for him to only be wounded and not dead. The number 13 also played a significant role in the Mahabharata. This was the number of years that Arjuna and his family were exiled to the forest before fighting with Karna. I chose to incorporate it into the number of years the war was fought.
Image Information:
Baby with Blue Eyes, Source: Pexels
King, Source: Pexels
Bibliography:
Mahabharata PDE by Vyasa
"Arjuna and Karna" and "Krishna and Karna" from Indian Myth and Legend by Donald A. Mackenzie (1913)
Hey Casey,
ReplyDeleteFirst, I really like the photo of the chess pieces at the top. To me it fits in very well with the title of your story as well as the overall story itself. Once again, I really like the color scheme of your blog. Especially in conjunction with the black and white chess pieces at the top, it works out very well. Your story was very entertaining to read and I really liked the author's notes mention the significance of the number "13" in the Mahabharata.
Hi Casey. I thought this was a really neat story; I didn't catch that it was about Arjuna and Karna until I read your note. It would be a pretty crazy moral dilemma to find out the king you were waging war against was actually your brother, and it would be interesting to see King Khalil's reaction to finding out the princess that died in his kingdom all those years ago was actually his sister!
ReplyDeleteHello!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this story. It was very emotional and I loved the dialogue between the characters because it made it much more personal. I feel like the wounded son was a very minor part in the story, so what if you added a dialogue between the son and father, or perhaps the son and the grandmother? I think that would make it even more personal and add some great character qualities.
Hello again Casey! Wow, I was not expecting that plot twist about the King's being brothers. I feel like he should've ended the war regardless of whether they were brothers or not. It was wrong of Amari to wrongfully accuse Khalli without prove but understandable. I'm glad they forgave each other in the end after finding out there brothers though. I'm curious about how the princess ended up being killed by thieves though. Wouldn't she have had guards or something? I like how you let Amari's son live. Your right, everyone kept dying in the original story and it kind of got old and sad. I look forward to reading more of your stories!
ReplyDelete