Flash Fiction - Magic of Death

(Moving all my other stuff onto one blog)

During a time of wonders and mysteries, of magic and monsters, a man stood in front of a tent anxiously waiting. The man was a King, who was waiting for his heir. He looked up to the skies for omens; but only saw the eagle, soaring freely through crystal blue. The King closed his eyes, and day-dreamed of the past.
He re-lived himself slaying countless beasts with his almighty sword. He remembered beheading the great Leviathan of the seas, he remembered crushing the limbs of the Behemoth of the mountains, and he remembered drinking the blood of the Dragons. The people of the kingdom followed him in sheer awe, and never questioned his divinity.
The powerful King opened his eyes, and sat in wait for his heir. He looked amongst his people and saw his lively kingdom first-hand. The merchant pulling his stock into place, the blacksmith hammering away, and the beggar helplessly on the ground. "Mi-Lord, come..." - one of the women said. The King entered the tent, and saw his Queen laying on the bed in pain. The King helplessly stood near the entrance, in wait of his heir.
The Queen screamed in agony. Waiting. Waiting for their miracle. Tears crashed down from her blue eyes, as her screams became weaker. The comfort of the women around her was keeping her focused, and with the King there, she had hope. "My Queen... Give us a boy... Give me an heir... May our love grant us an heir..." - The King said in hope. "My King..." - The Queen said quivering while holding out her hand.
The King knelt down next to his Queen, and held her softly. She screamed as her grip became tight on the King's hand. Then... The miracle...
The little screams of a baby were heard, then the last loud shout of the Queen. One of the women brought the baby to the King. "It's a boy Mi-Lord. It's your son..."- the woman told. "Abaddon, name him Abaddon..." - the Queen said, as her grip began to fade. The King sat there in full stillness, holding his Queen's hand. He felt her weak pulse in her wrist, beating. He saw her womb, bleeding. He listened to her slow breathing, going on... And on... Gone...
Silence suffocated the King's heart like deadly knives, until his son's cries woke him up.
The King walked outside of the tent and shouted to his people "Abaddon! My Heir!" he said, as he held his son up high. He looked upon his child. Ten fingers, ten toes, limbs and a strong heart beat. "A fine young heir to my throne Abaddon. You will rule in my stead well." - He said, as he covered his son in cloth.

This is how a Queen died. This is how a Demon is born...

- Short-Story introduction by Symon T. Taylor.