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The King's Hall was utterly silent. None of the courtiers dared to so much as breathe. Lady Mystella continued:

"...and so like Uranus was slain by Chronos, and Chronos by Zeus, so too shall you be slain by the young prince. Lady Mystella has seen this in the stars and in the blood pools. In 17 years, only one can live. If the boy lives the king will die, if the boy dies the king shall live for generations, with milk and honey at his beck and call. Lady Mystella has seen this, and Lady Mystella is never wrong."

No one dared to move. No one dared to speak. The wrath of a grieving man is like the thrashing of a cornered animal. Every servant in the hall knew the mortal danger that loomed over them now.

The King shook in his throne, a white knuckled grip on either arm. Lady Mystella stared back at him, unapologetic, almost defiant. She would die, surely. Perhaps they would all die.

The silence was pierced with a cry. Not by the baby prince but by the maid who held him. She shuddered and whimpered, but bit her lip until it bled to keep silent. "I'm sorry sire. I'm sorry..."

The King glared at her, then back at the witch, "EVERYONE, OUT."

So they shall die and we shall live! Thank the gods. Mercy and ablutions for these most generous of fates! Everyone shuffled out of the King's Hall, save for the witch, the maid, and the baby boy.

...

But the prince didn't die, nor did the maid. Lady Mystella disappeared, but that seemed an outcome of incredible mercy, for the wrath which could have befallen us.

The kingdom was silent for weeks after the prophecy. Everyone knew the King had killed his boy and grieved in the Hall. But one day the doors to the Hall opened, and the prince crawled out with his father behind him. The King pushed a red ball down the hall, and his son giggled and followed after it. The servants froze where they stood.

No one knew what to make of this. The King had been so fearful and guarded when the Queen mysteriously died. Everyone had become the object of suspicion. Everyone was an agent of a kingdom to the North or an empire from the South, each waiting for a moment of weakness from him. But now he looked on this boy, his destined demise, with love in his eyes? Not only that, but he seemed happy. Perhaps for all his grief at the Queen's loss his mind had finally snapped.

As the King watched his boy chase the ball among his frozen servants, a tear rolled down the King's grizzled cheek.

...

In the barracks, the young prince swung his wooden sword at the knights, each of them mock cowering behind great iron shields. The boy had grown healthy, and he had grown strong. The knights laughed and ruffled his hair, knowing that soon the prince would be too tall for them to do so.

Or at least, they hoped. The prince was 16 years of age now. The young prince may not know his fate, but everyone else in the land was keenly aware of his prophecy. And as the fateful day approached they grew increasingly worried for what the King was thinking.

The King watched his boy from the castle balcony. He stroked his beard while he thought. Wistfully, he wondered, "The boy's 17th birthday approaches. I wonder what comes after."

"Do you have regrets then, my King? Was I wrong in my counsel?"

The King sighed, he knew the answer. "No, you were right. You always are. I just wonder what comes after."

"After, you will need to trust the boy. Trust that he will be strong, that he will be brave, that he will be smart. Trust that he will be able to defend himself."

"You're right, you're right."

Lady Mystella smiled, "Lady Mystella is never wrong."

The King grinned back at her, "But she does lie though, doesn't she?"

"Lady Mystella lies through her teeth, my King. But only to them, never to you."

---

Submitted by Urbas on Thu, Dec 01, 2022 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

you're far from the first king to receive the prophecy that your new born child would cause your death. Where your story diverges is when instead of tossing the kid to the wolves, you are driven to be a kind & nurturing father.