Chapter 41: The Last Wish
The Imperial Throne Room's air retained the war's heaviness, even in its sparkling marbled floor and gilded golden drapes. There was a wisp of burning incense that lingered through a ceremonial brazier, trying to cover the sorrow that clung to the marble skeleton of the palace.
As Prince Min Ye Kyaw Htin was on the verge of leaving the hall, a panting voice rang out in the hush of the moment.
"Your Highness—!"
A rain-soaked, tattered royal adjutant staggered through the gates and fell down on both knees in front of the two princes, gasping in desperation.
Both Aung and Min turned straight away.
Aung's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"
He bowed low, shuddering in fear.
"It's His Majesty. The King—he's awakened."
Min's eyes widened in shock. "What?"
"Good news, indeed," exclaimed Aung, the tone of his voice rising in a note of new-found hope. "Why so serious a look, then?"
The adjutant hesitated, bowing so low that even his forehead was almost at floor-level.
"The Head of Sarsana warned us—that could be… his last awakening."
The hall fell abruptly silent.
Aung's breath was caught in his throat.
Min's jaw clenched. "…He wants to meet us?"
"Yes, both of you, Your Highnesses. He awaits in the Chamber of Light. Make haste, please!"
In one swift motion, the two princes took to running. Footsteps ringing down the lengthy corridor, the world beyond became a blur.
Inside the Chamber of Light
The interior was dimly lit by the soft glow of oil lamps and the filtered light of windows veiled in silk. Murals of the past emperors and the legends of the beginning of the Empire adorned the walls.
On the grand silk-covered bed, ringed by anxious faces, the King, once a powerful monarch, thin and pale, breathing shallowly, and eyes dimmed by suffering, rested.
She sat beside him in silence, in mourning white, holding his hand.
The Head of the Sarsana and the Head of the Royal Guard, the spiritual leader of the Empire, stood there gravely. There were a couple of loyal servants and loyal maids who stood in quiet vigil, their tear-filled eyes red but unwilling to weep.
When the princes entered, the King blinked slowly, his weak eyes having trouble focusing.
"...My sons..."
"Father!" Min Ye Kyaw Htin knelt down first, by the bedside. "We are here. We came at once."
Aung knelt on the other side, holding onto the hand of his father tightly.
The King smiled weakly. "The Empire… is secure. You both… have performed well."
"Father, don't say a word. Rest," said Aung.
But the King shook his head gently.
"There is… no time to rest."
The Queen wiped away tears, quiet but composed. Her hand shook a little when she reached up and put it on the King's shoulder. The Head of Sarsana advanced, laying a soothing hand on the King's chest, and nodded to the two princes.
"He is coherent once more. He wanted to say his last words to his children. And to his successor."
The King's body was wracked by a weak cough, but he persisted.
"Aung… Min… I saw both of you… struggle… survive… suffer… for this Empire. And now…"
His eyes shifted to Aung. "I was mistaken to ignore you. Blind… to your worth. But no longer is this the case. Today, I bestow a name upon you—that of our first ancestor…"
The Head of the Guard and the Queen both spun round at those words. There was silence in the chamber.
"From this time forward, you will bear the name: Aung Kyaw Zeya."
Aung's eyes widened. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out.
"That name," Min spoke in a whisper, amazed. "The founder's name."
The King smiled weakly.
"You will be remembered… as Aung III. Only the others who had the same title… were the ones who reconstructed this Empire when it had fallen apart. Just as you have."
Aung's eyes welled up, cracking in a whisper, "Father… I'm not worth it."
"You are," the King whispered. "You saved our people. You healed them… Led them. Even your brother sees it now."
Min bowed his head. "I do, Father. He is the true heir of the throne."
Tears streamed freely down the King's cheeks now.
"I have but one last desire."
He struggled to lift his hand, which both sons immediately held.
"Love one another… no matter what. Brothers are… the only ones who will stay behind when the whole wide world will have forgotten. Never let one another go."
"A promise," Aung whispered.
"I swear it," Min repeated.
The King shut his eyes tight for a lengthy moment.
"To you, then, I leave the Empire. My son…"
He breathed out his last breath.
"…Emperor Aung Kyaw Zeya… Aung III."
The air was suspended in time.
The Queen's hand shook as she covered the King's eyes, her tears finally falling.
"The King…" she wept, the words trembling and broken, "...is dead."
The Head of Sarsana advanced and put a blessed cloth on the chest of the King.
"Again the wheel of destiny turns."
Next, the Queen rose to her feet. Her grief-laden voice was full of strength.
"Let the Empire hear these words. In compliance with the last will of His Majesty, the throne is inherited by Prince Aung Kyaw Zeya. Today, he is no longer a prince."
She turned and gazed at everyone in the room, and then beyond the open balcony to the city.
"He is the Emperor, Aung the Third."
In response, as if by the Gods, thunder boomed across the heavens.
And then—
It rained.
Heavy. Cold. Sorrowful.
The Empire grieved.
And yet—there was peace.
Throughout the Imperial Capital, low bells rang out. Streets swelled with citizens kneeling, candles clutched in their hands, sobbing in the drizzling grey sky.
Soldiers dropped their helms and held them upon their hearts. Monks struck traditional gongs. Commoners and nobles both converged in front of the palace gates.
"Long live the Emperor," someone breathed softly.
"Long live Aung III."
"Long live the Empire."
And the sky wept along with them.
For the death of a King.
For the dawn of a new time period.
For the ascendancy… of Emperor Aung Kyaw Zeya.
(Continue…)