Would You Kill For Power? A Machiavellian Thought - Short Story - NAK Fiction
I walk into the enormous great hall, bare footed, my hands clasped together in chains that I cannot break. No matter how hard I try. My gaze keeps at the floor which is textured with a hue of thousands of red roses spread across the hall. I can feel the wet roses underneath my feet as I move closer; knowing that in just a few minutes my death could await me - in all of its eminence and illustriousness.
I keep walking, slowly but gradually. My eyes still locked on the crimson floor in front of me as I see thousands of eyes staring at me from across the hall. I am on an aisle thats right in the middle of the hall and what lies in front of me in just a few steps is the King's Throne. The throne that caused the war. The throne that caused the devastation that I had to endure all my life. I had always, as a kid, wondered about why the throne mattered so much. But I now knew of its momentousness. I now knew that it held more power than I could fathom all those years back. I now understood the term power, in the Machiavellian sense of the word; but was still far from achieving it.
I kept walking as I raised my gaze for the first time since my arrival and was met with a cold static gaze. I was staring into my uncles eyes who was on the throne waiting for my arrival. He was the reason I was in chains. He killed my father and put my family to waste after forcing himself upon all our women. He had remained aloof most of his life but the day he came back I knew. Ever since that first day I felt a certain unease about him and my uneasiness manifested itself in the most gruesome form of reality. His vendetta against my father had worked due to his blind admiration for his brother. Admiration is indeed a state furthest away from reality. He paid the price and now I was here, the last clause of a deal well orchestrated.
I now slowed down my pace as I moved my head upwards to let the sunlight shone down on my face. I felt the light brisk warmth of the sun and felt a comfort that I cannot express into words. I closed my eyes and gave out a smirk as I let the sunlight transform the entire room into a new spectacle. The question was would you kill power? And my answer to that was locked long before I entered this hall. I took the actions my father couldn't. I, chose to kill! And here I stand, a victor.
I open my eyes and am met with a much different but acceptable view of the hall. My hands feel light as the chains around my hands are no longer there. The thousands of red roses spread across the hall have now transformed into pools of blood. The sun reflects brightly off of the crimson floor and the hundreds of people staring at me from around the hall are nothing more than skulls with black, gaping eyes. They couldn't judge me anymore. I made sure of it. Had I not done what I did, all of them would be anxiously waiting for me to get hung. In front of the, how could I forget; the Great King! My Uncle.
I finally reach the Throne and on top of it lays my uncles severed head with his glossy eyes staring right back at me. I pick it up from the top and stare into his eyes, looking for an answer. When I stabbed him with my knife, I didn't ask for any answers nor any explanation. I didn't need one. But now that I had him, had his head in my hand I was compelled to search. Search for why the need for power made people do what they did. Search for that one answer. Would you kill for power? My uncle did. And to some extent I did too. I was motivated more by revenge, but then again, isn't that in itself a great power? The power to be able to exercise revenge?
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After Note: For all those of you who are a little confused... this piece of writing contains a lot of subtext (reading in between the lines). Although the setting is much different, it's a juxtaposition with the current world order and how we're still bound by the same thoughts and creeds as practiced by people centuries ago but are living in a totally different time.
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Till next time...