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Prologue
“Here, David.”
It glistened in the sunlight, twirling it around just enough for the embroidery to show. Carvings of grape vines and wolves etched the handle as it rested on his cloak, waiting to be lifted.
And when the cloak was lifted, it met the eyes of his beloved who stared at the weapon. A bronze blade, plundered from the Philistines… the prince’s sword.
“I meant to give you this sooner, but after you had struck that giant down… I thought, maybe-“ Jonathan tensed at his words. With a flushed face, he accidentally let out a chuckle before silencing himself. He could hardly keep his eyes on the shepherd warrior without acting like a boy fumbling his confession for his lover, but he had to give him something… or his soul will never rest.
“It’s just that- when you defeated the enemy that no one dared to confront…” His voice trailed. By this point, the prince held his cloak, bow, and sword with trembling hands, unsure if he should continue. The face of the giant slayer caused him to forget his surroundings.
They stood in a field after the battle, next to his tent. Hills with stones rolled around them, carrying the mutterings of weary men from beyond the field, but only they remained at the camp. Alone they stood, and yet, he fell deeper into his countenance, swallowed by the burning of his eyes, the same burning that gazed upon Goliath.
His playful lips would bring him out of his trance once he noticed the shepherd chuckling… out of bewilderment. “My prince… uh. I don’t deserve your gift. I mean, I’m just a servant, and you’re-“
“I’m yours.” The words slipped before David could finish. Jonathan stiffened as they both went silent. Why… Did he really say that? It has hardly been a minute since he first approached the shepherd who just slew a giant with his head brought to the king after having Goliath decapitated. There was no reason for him to confess right away. Maybe he should have practiced his undying love for David beforehand.
However, as desperate he wanted David to know of his offer, the gift continued to weigh his hand. What is one soul without the other…
“Oh- um, forgive me.” Flustered, Jonathan almost face-palmed, but he continued. “I guess I’m just… fond of you. Well, my feelings were certain after having witnessed you overcome two beasts. My father, when you play him music, and then this giant you slew. Which is why…” He couldn’t finish, not with the shepherd gazing at him as though chained to every word he spoke. Upon noticing David’s already ruddy complexion growing redder, his heart soared at the shepherd’s awe, equal to his, for they both stared in silence, followed by more silence… This wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps he should back out of giving him his gift for making himself a fool before the one who strung both of their hearts together ever since he came into his father’s service. Jonathan clutched onto the cloak, sighing.
“Maybe-“
“Why-“
They spoke at the same time. Immediately, he pretended to cough, clearing his throat to cover up what he was about to say. David did the same. Now their eyes hovered over to the side, until Jonathan took the chance to speak again without butchering it this time.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“But why? I don’t get it.”
“Hm?”
“My prince, why are you giving me what’s yours? I am not worthy of your honor.”
“Look, I too don’t understand why I’m doing this in the first place, but it’s not for honor.”
“Then… what for?”
“I… you won’t leave me, won’t you?”
“No? I mean… I never planned on leaving.”
“Really?”
“I was hoping you’d stay… for a little longer maybe. It’s not often that I see you-“
“This close…?”
“Yes.”
“I guess that makes the two of us.”
The sword on his cloak brushed his chest when they stood mere inches from each other. He wanted nothing more than to toss the gift right into his hands, but it takes a few more words to be bound with the soul he yearned.
“Come to my tent, and maybe we’ll understand why.”
***
Bliss
His breath trickled down his neck as another thrust sent a wave of bliss. Kisses muffled out his groans when buried in the lips of his beloved who pinned him on a bed of almonds. Gold linen fell away the more he allowed himself to be revealed.
The question of how had been shoved to the side, for they laid on a mountain towering into the heavens. A blanket of stars beamed when the night sky touched their tent, an abyss beyond the mountain. He’d stare up at clusters of light showering down on their bed while David kissed his tears away. This is what he wanted.
“Never… have I… been-“ Jonathan’s words hitched to David slamming into him again. The shepherd’s heavy breaths sent his head reeling with how he held him by his hair until their foreheads met.
“Treated… this way…” His words broke free once David lowered his head to nip at his jaw.
“What? How can I deny the way you look at me? When I go back and forth from Gibeah to my father’s house, your eyes just so happen to find mine.”
“You’ve… known?”
“Mhm. You make it too obvious, my prince. I waited, and you’ve finally come to me.”
The same burning in his eyes, that once gazed upon the giant, penetrated his soul. They went aflame, and his lips would catch his gasps. From his lips, Jonathan trailed a hand to his jaw, then to his neck, brushing the tendon, and then down to his chest and stomach flexing at every thrust. The very sight of it made him shudder. He fell apart once his fingers reached his thigh. Sprawled beneath his beloved, the one to complete his soul, he’d cry out his name after one final push, sending him over the edge. And then he plummeted, deep into the abyss, with the mountain fading from view. Finally, bliss.
“You’ve… given me enough.”
“Have I?” David chuckled. He lazily plucked out the almonds from Jonathan’s hair before grazing his seed across his cheek. Jonathan leaned into his touch, sighing.
“But I have yet to give you my gift.”
It came into view. He turned, blinking away the haze and the aching of his groin to reach for the cloak with his weapons. It draped right into his hands once he brought it over to David who sat upright, gazing down at the bundle of blue linen. Jonathan gave one last look at the gift, and then… the moment he had been waiting for. This is it. What is one soul without giving to the other? He laid it out in front of him, his cloak, bow, and-
***
Denial
Jonathan, I understand. Your father hasn’t been in his right mind. I’ve never questioned your loyalty to your father, but I will do anything to waver your concern. For you are my prince- but even more. My dove, my song, my will to live, the very breath I take—you. Ever since your eyes fell upon me, I didn’t know how to react. I simply waited… waited and hoped that maybe, you’d come to me. But here we are as one soul. Your gift pierces me, etching my heart with your spirit. I have no words, and yet my spirit sings when you’re near. I love you, more than that of women. Together, we’ll live and die, as one soul. I will attend to your father’s request… for you.
Jonathan stood fixated on the hallway before him. He wiped his seed-covered lips from earlier as he stepped into the darkness, weighed by the shadows being cast across the cold floor with rows of pillars leading his eyes to where he needed to be.
The throne room. It sat at the end of the hallway, hidden behind a curtain, beckoning him to check on David. His footsteps echoed as he treaded past the pillars.
Like a fleeting memory, he had forgotten what David said until his voice leaped back in his mind from having remembered their weary whispers just before they left the tent to return with the rest of the army. On the way back from Elah, a celebration of their victory roared across the city upon entering through the gate. But among the clashing of song and praise, he caught glimpses of his father’s spirit dwindling to the women who chanted David's name over and over again. His laughter had dropped into groans by the time they entered the palace, and at that point, Jonathan knew better than to keep his father occupied with intrusive voices pestering his ears right after a battle, or else everyone would be subjected to his rage. To ease the storm over his head, he had him sit back on his throne before going out to fetch David, who could strum the spirit of anyone to sleep, the one who strummed Jonathan’s heart in the first place. David had been determined to fulfill his will. The shepherd could bring any beast down, just as he slew Goliath with a single stone.
Well, a day has passed. He needed to check on his father and see if David is still here. They may already have gone back to their quarters, but no one can be sure, and therefore, he must check on them.
He had been walking for a while now. His steps continued to echo, and echo… bouncing off the walls with frayed tapestry draping above the windows. He turned his head, peering into a void where no stars gleamed. Beyond the palace stretched an endless abyss outside of every window. The only light being emitted came from a small table with an oil lamp flickering behind the pillars that hid the flame. He could still see despite the overwhelming darkness around him, enough to notice the curtain over the throne room. It looked the same as before.
He paused and whipped around, facing the void behind him. The entrance to the hall had disappeared by now, so he should be getting close. He continued walking.
This time his eyes had been locked on the throne room, not once looking away as the pillars fell past him, one after another… and another… and with another oil lamp to light his path before being swallowed by the void. However, the room stayed in one place, not ever getting closer. He further passed by more rows of the same pillar, only to be met with more. Then more. And… four more maybe…? No. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. He stopped counting.
He could no longer hear his footsteps. His breathing had drowned out the thudding of his sandals. Soon, the walls melted into the pillars as everything became a blur when fixated on the room pulling away from him, not allowing his feet to step through the curtain. It left him to stumble, dragging himself through the same beaten floor just to reach the other side.
Eventually his breaths turned into gasps. Now his vision spun as darkness and light mingled, twisting the walls into hints of yellow within an endless assembly of, what was, pillars, while spirals of oblivion consumed remnants of a form that once was but will never be when a form has been severed to the point of no return… and yet, the throne room remained.
Panic weighed confusion. He had treaded so far into the hallway that turning back would be futile, but it left him stuck, forever passing by the same pillar and window. Silence shunned his footsteps, for he had stopped with nowhere but the room ahead of him to reach. Even his breathing stilled within the emptiness of the hall when the throne room looked just as he first saw it before attempting to traverse for an end that can never be found. Endless… No rest. The desperation rose to meet his endeavor.
His eyes darted as he twisted around with nowhere else to go. Nothing but darkness. And pillars. Darkness. And tapestry. Darkness. And more darkness. And more pillars. And more windows. And darkness. With more pillars. And then windows. And tapestry. And darkness. Revealing more pillars. And some more.
Walking. Through darkness. Through windows. And pillars. With more darkness. And tapestry. Within pillars. And windows. With darkness. And more walking. Passing the pillars. The tapestry. The darkness. And windows. And tapestry. And pillars. And darkness. And windows. And tapestry. And darkness. And light. And columns. And darkness. And shape. And light. And columns. And light. And running. Through darkness. Through color. And through shape. And light. With more darkness. And more shape. Running. Gasping. Within the darkness. The color. And the shape. While running, sprinting, bounding, crashing into- light.
He skidded across the floor, tripping over his own tunic before being slammed into the table. The oil lamp fell over, plunging the light into darkness once it had been snuffed. His surroundings disappeared faster than he could blink, leaving him alone in the dark.
No… no, no.
A sharp exhale broke the silence after the table had fallen. Jonathan scrambled to his knees. His hands frantically raked the floor, searching for the lamp, until a puddle of oil led his fingers to the lamp on its side. For a moment, he circled the opening where the oil would be and tried to shovel it back in before bending down to blow on the embers. He gripped the floor, blowing as hard as he could. When his hope dwindled, a spark ignited. The embers finally burst into flame, and his surroundings would return.
He sat on the floor for a while. After having processed the situation, he lifted the lamp, revealing the entrance to the throne room right in front of him. Jonathan stood before the curtain, his feet barely touching it. He blinked, as though to blink away whatever happened before since apparently he had been standing by the room the entire time. He sighed. His hand reached for his head, rubbing it. Perhaps he had hit his head too hard after bumping into that table. Well, there was only one thing to do now.
Without a word, he simply stepped forward, his lamp in one hand, to finally peel back the curtain he longed to enter. His fingers pushed the linen, and little by little, it cracked open a void on the other side, unveiling a pitch-black room. He held up his lamp before being swallowed by darkness as he stepped into a silence weighing the room with only a patch of light to see.
He had to swing the lamp around for any sign of his father, or David… But it took much ambling through the dark to find the throne… empty.
Jonathan squinted his eyes, hovering his lamp in the air until a wooden handle caught his eye. He twisted around, cocking his head at the object. He lowered the lamp enough for the wooden instrument to come into view, revealing David’s kinnor. His gaze softened. He placed a hand on one of the wooden arms and picked it up from the floor.
Hearing the strum of his kinnor for the first time sparked a flame in his soul ever since David came to play for his father. He’d hide behind one of the pillars, watching him, when he should be fulfilling his duties. For many nights he’d wake up and sit on his bed just to catch his voice seeping through his father’s chambers, to the point Abner had to pull him away multiple times from spending the night by the throne room, but he couldn’t help listening to a voice lulling the tormented into its melody. It brought forth a peace so profound, he’d sometimes fall asleep as well. But on one occasion, David woke him up when caught lying in the corner of the throne room. His face being the first thing he saw after a deep slumber shook him to the core after having sprang to his feet, wiping his garments down while straightening his shoulders to return his dignity as a prince, only for the shepherd to laugh, followed by his own, before excusing himself with a made up duty he needed to fulfill.
Their first meeting left him more determined than ever to seek the musician who not only eased his father’s soul, but it touched his just as much it touched his father’s. But beyond mere comfort, David’s songs called to him as though the next day will be their last if they don’t secure their fate with one another. Those nights of longing and inviting him to stay for their meals, wishing with a chuckle for the shepherd to stay longer, maybe even play a song in his room while the thrumming of unsung melodies drew their souls together… were nights where their hearts spoke when words couldn’t be uttered. A moment to spare a glance, or even a touch.
And thus the mission to give him the gift of their covenant led his soul to where he stood now…
Searching for David.
He lowered the kinnor when something hard pressed against his foot. Jonathan’s brows furrowed, squinting through the dark to barely make out a shape. He stepped back and raised his lamp for the light to settle on, what it seemed to be, a staff. But as he approached closer, the tip of it reflected back.
A spearhead laid mere inches from his foot, pointing in the vague direction of somewhere beyond what his lamp could show… Jonathan followed it after giving one quick glance at the spear. He trudged through more darkness, a void enveloping his view on all sides with only a patch of light to guide him. His breaths and the tapping of his sandals echoed throughout the room. One step after another, and another…
The ruffling of his coat swayed to every movement he made, slow and observant of his surroundings. An endless abyss confined him to what little sight he had when nothing but the stone floor revealed itself from the shadows. His gold chains clinked. Another cold thud would hit the floor. The flame flickered.
He halted, making sure the flame didn't go out, but it thrashed around once he bumped into something hard again. This time, his feet almost slipped. A wet streak stuck to his sandal, letting out a splash when he stepped away to hold up his lamp, allowing the light to dissolve the darkened outline of…
“David?” Jonathan gaped. He froze with eyes locked on his beloved sprawled across the floor, unmoved by Jonathan’s accidental prodding after having stepped on him multiple times. His grip on the kinnor tightened. He hunched over and gazed down at the shepherd lying on his side, drawing his fingers to trace through familiar auburn curls. Soft, with a hint of the earth permeating from his hair coiling to his caresses… He sighed at the touch as the memories of their love surged. Then he traveled down to his shoulder before placing a hand on him.
“David, wake up. It’s me, Jonathan. My father is gone.” He nudged him awake. He smiled and planted a kiss on his head to stir him out of his slumber. When David continued to lie on his side, Jonathan grasped his shoulder with a thumb rubbing his back, pulling him close so he can see his-
The kinnor fell to the ground, and for a moment, silence filled the space between them… until Jonathan gasped. An anguished sob broke out as he flung himself back, stumbling into his father’s throne when left to stare at David’s face, split in half.
The wet, sticky streaks he stepped in had been the blood surrounding David. His body would open up like a pomegranate. From his eyes, gouged and bleeding over the two halves of his lips, to his neck with a split tendon, then to his chest and stomach, spilling out entrails looped around the sword deep in his flesh… he laid as a remnant of the shepherd he so loved with a face obscured by long, rampant slashes down to his leg as though intended to be blotted from memory.
His gift to David… plunged in his beloved, forever gone.
His sobs receded when he could only stare. In that instant, he felt everything overlapping the nothing, all muddling his mind into a shell of what’s left of his emotions. Nothing.
The spark once kindling their souls had been quenched. Not a breath crept through his mouth, for he stood in silence. The weight of everything and nothing shunned wordless weeping. His every heartbeat froze with him when time melted into oblivion. Nothing mattered. His beloved had been stripped from his arms, leaving him to stare at a love that barely blossomed. Despite everything Jonathan gave up to be with his beloved, to spend those nights seeking out the shepherd, hoping he’d stay, or even acknowledge him in return… all he’d ever done was give him the gift, for a love that lasted a day.
Sandals scuffed the floor. He stiffened to the sound from behind the throne. His eyes panned over to the side, peering into the dark, with a void just as overwhelming as his surroundings, but a low murmur would break the silence.
“I was afraid.”
Jonathan had whipped around, twirling on his feet to peek over the armrest he leaned. A red, tattered robe appeared. Upon lifting his lamp, the light unveiled his father slouching against the throne with his back turned on Jonathan who stepped around to face him, and yet, another wave of silence settled between, what should have been, a voice to reason all this madness, but Jonathan could only shake his head. His father leaned further into the throne, hiding his face beneath the black strands of his hair. It splayed across his trembling stature that once stood proud and tall among the people who celebrated their return from Elah. But after the defeat of Goliath, his mood depleted, leaving him to barely stand before his son. The silence would be penetrated with a sigh. Jonathan finally spoke up.
“Why?” He rasped. It echoed throughout the room, consuming his father.
Words stifled until he forced them out through gritted teeth. “I was trying to protect our house…”
“From an innocent man? But Father, he has done no wrong.”
“You gave him your sword when the son of Jesse slew giants and won the hearts of my people. He’s here to take the throne.” Saul lifted his head. Matted hair rolled along his shoulders, twisting to face Jonathan who stepped back, aghast by his father’s actions.
“He would never do such a thing. I know him.”
“You only think that because he has stolen your heart.” Saul sneered, fully shifting into the light as the darkness fell away from his countenance. However, half of his face hid behind a shadow with only the white of his eyes shining through his shadowed mask, leaving his face to distort from every word he spat. “You are my heir, and your loyalty belongs to the crown.”
Jonathan could hardly speak. With trembling lips, his eyes watered as he backed away once more, shaking his head. “We were meant to be… I loved him more than I loved myself.” He sniffed, holding back a sob, but the tears welled until he blinked. Dripping down his chin, they plopped onto the floor and mingled with the blood at his feet, a reminder of his soul forever half of what it used to be now that a part of him is lost, never to be made whole. “And yet… you killed him.”
Saul froze in place. A shadow, darker than their surroundings, crossed his face when the words reached his ears. With eyes locked on the prince, he’d amble over to him as the world faded. Every step weighed heavier than the last, and his breaths would slam into Jonathan. He flinched from his father grasping his shoulders. His piercing gaze drew their faces together until their foreheads touched. Jonathan couldn’t move when his hands bore down on his cloak.
“My son… wake up.”
The white of his eyes overwhelmed his sight. It almost pressed into Jonathan’s flitting glances, trying to look away, but Saul hardened his grip to keep him from writhing. He winced in confusion.
“What? Why should I when David is dead?” He choked out a sob. His voice strained as the tears plummeted from his face. “He’s gone, Father.”
“What’s done is done now, and you need to see that.” His father’s eyes glistened. He too held back tears, but they threatened to fall. His hands shook before pulling him closer.
“Open your eyes.”
Saul dug his fingers into Jonathan’s eyelids, stretching them open. Tears rushed out, and he’d scream in pain. Jonathan tried to squeeze his eyes shut but couldn’t.
“Stop it.” He pleaded, but his pleas would fade into oblivion where the foundation of his world collapsed, spiraling with a confrontation he cannot confront no matter how hard he tried to veer past its gnashing. But it waited, ready to leap from the shadows. He could almost see it when his eyes stretched further.
David’s blood drenched the walls, cascading from above before dripping onto his father. Gushes of scarlet oozed down his face, painting his features, but his eyes seeped through the bloody mess of his beloved. His gaze, now distant to Jonathan’s cries, would consume him as the blood spread throughout the room.
And then… Jonathan would look down, lifting his hands, to find blood on himself. He had been covered in his beloved’s blood from head to toe.
“I’ll be here if you need me.”
Saul’s voice echoed as Jonathan sank to his knees and gagged on the blood filling his throat. Gurgling sheets of scarlet, he sputtered with nails clawing at his face, trying to breathe, but the blood suffocated his wails. Before it could bury him, a single tear fell on his lamp, snuffing out the light.
He’d open his eyes.
***
The Gift
David, you’ve done nothing wrong. Forgive me for putting you in this position. I should have known of my father’s madness. You’re able to strum the hearts of many, and I know because you've strummed mine. We are one soul, and forever it’ll stay that way, even in the end. Our love is eternal. Do one favor for me, my love. I beg of you to rest easy and know I must follow through with this. As much as I don’t want to, we have no choice. I am torn. My spirit is faint. And yet, we’ll soon return to the earth together, as one soul. All I ever wanted in this life was to love you. Remember me till the very last breath, my love, as you live on in my heart… forever.
Jonathan sat up on his bed with his eyes open, blinking away the vision receding into his room. A heavy silence fell. What should have been a gasp came out as a sigh.
Another dream. The same one from last night, or actually—the night before… like every other night… He had stopped counting. There was no point in trying to remember a vision worth forgetting.
He could only hold his head and shudder, raking his hands through thick, matted curls. However, they barely reached the end of his hair, once long and flowing, before being lodged in a clump of strands halting his hand. He then reached for his face to rub away the little amount of sleep he had, or if any at all, for as soon his eyes would close, the dreams returned. And then the cycle repeats—he’d wake up, pace around, go back to sleep, only to wake up again. This has gone on for several months.
A cold crept into his room even with the morning light filtering through the window, but it brought no warmth. Instead, he lifted his head to stare at a bowl of fruit rotting next to where the tapestries used to hang, but they had been stripped down, just like the rest of his room. Barren to any gold that once adorned his chambers, each and every corner was torn into pieces as various riches littered across upturned tables among the piles of clay tablets that had been shattered. Everything he destroyed would be used to barricade the entrance of his room, so that no servant or guard could enter, leaving him alone with only his bed to lie on.
He had been bedridden for a while. It became a chore to get up and walk. His sheets, crumpled and torn like all his belongings, would be tossed to the floor, for he slept with nothing to cover him when there remained only a few things to be done—wake up and sleep. No duties. No orders. The title of prince grew meaningless. After all, he was no one… without David.
Jonathan clutched onto his sides, huddling over as his body trembled from both the cold and the memories plaguing his mind. After having drained his energy on tearing his room apart, shedding a tear took much effort even as he spent his days lying in bed with nothing in his heart to feel other than… a longing. Something he hadn’t felt in a while.
His eyes wandered around the room, the room he confined himself to for many months with little food or water, having only consumed skins of wine stashed in baskets by his bedside. But as his eyes panned from one broken mess after another, they landed on the very object pelting his nights with restless sleep… The gift.
He hasn’t been the same ever since David died. Shortly after the execution, the house of Jesse was able to retrieve him, though it took much persuasion for Saul to give them the body, but eventually he would be buried in Bethlehem with the rest of his fathers. Jonathan grieved as much as the people mourning for him by spending every waking hour wailing into the night, wishing for at least another day to be with his beloved… to see him in his cloak and hold the weapons he had given when their spirits finally bonded in Elah. But it was all in vain.
He tried to brush it off, knowing he had no choice, but the days dragged on when expected to fulfill his duties, pretending to forget despite having half of a soul. He found himself in his room more often with his hands on his soul, pressing hard enough to keep it from bleeding. However, the blood would stain his steps. Shutting out everyone was inevitable, but it had to be done. His family. The world. Anyone who knew him… he couldn’t show his face. Not in this state. Every day, their pleas fell on deaf ears, muddled by the silence filling his mind until they completely faded from having moved on, all except for one.
His father would always stop by to talk. However, his voice barely passed the barricade blocking the entrance, having only caught murmurs of his father either asking for forgiveness or trying to explain the situation, but his words could only reach so far. He already knew what he had done. It manifested in his dreams every night, tormenting him, making sure he doesn’t forget… not that he ever will. Not when his beloved bled to death in his arms, or when he held the sword just before he died, watching David smile as they kissed each other’s tears, with no other choice to be made.
For if David had lived… Saul would have killed the shepherd himself. He had no choice.
The sword gleamed. It led his eyes over to the blade on the table as he finally arose out of bed, shaking. His bones ached, and his legs could barely stand, but he inched his way forward through piles of wreckage until he stood before it… knowing there was one duty left to fulfill.
Just as he longed to give David the gift before, he longed to give him the gift again. What is one soul without the other…?
He picked it up, twirled it in his grip, and gazed at the window beckoning him a way out of this place. He had been trapped here for as long as he could remember. To feel the sun and the breeze, with the earth calling for his return—they awaited him.
For the first time in months, a sense of purpose coursed through his heart to finally make an effort to go outside, leaving his broken chamber behind. He’d grab some rope from a table, tied it to one of the poles holding up the canopy over his bed, and tossed it over the window. But before he could climb down, his eyes darted around the floor until he spotted the stripped tapestries by the wall. It laid across his feet, but he snatched the linen and covered the window before making his descent. Once he reached the ground with the sword in his hand, he dodged the guards or anyone who ambled past him, making sure to remain hidden. It didn’t take long to find the city gate, but as soon his steps slipped past the walls of the city, he would be met with the warm embrace of the sun.
He exhaled, releasing his burdens, and breathed in the breeze filling his soul of a new purpose to be done. The gift weighed his hand.
He began making his journey, taking in his surroundings when a blade of grass brushed against his ankles, or when the stones tumbled down the hill he treaded. The breeze threaded through his hair, untangling matted strands, while the sun beat on his face lifting toward the sky. He can’t recall the last time he’s seen a cloud or a star, except for the one night he spent with his beloved beneath the stars showering down on their bed. His touch ascended him into the heavens when sprawled in the aftermath of their love, tasting the seed on his lips as they held each other until dawn. He’d do anything to spend another night with him, for his hands, his eyes, and everything he had given up for…
But his feet would lead him to the mountain awaiting his arrival, to find peace in the gift. He journeyed far enough to finally reach his destination.
It towered before him, the base rising far into the heavens with the peak barely visible in the sky. But nothing can stop Jonathan from climbing it. As he once took on the crags of Michmash, he’ll do the same with the mountain.
His hands grappled the stones before pushing himself up the mountain. At various points he could just walk when it wasn’t too steep, but sometimes he needed leverage by digging his sword into the rock. But with enough strength to continue, his advances came to a halt once he reached the peak, leaving him to peer down into the abyss after having overcome the obstacle. His head grazed the face of heaven upon lifting his eyes toward the sun smearing brilliant, gold flares across the horizon. The wind ruffled his hair, swaying to every breath he took as soon he opened his mouth… and sighed. The time has come to give him his gift.
He stood at the edge of the universe, searching for the other half of his soul. They can only be made whole when two spirits join together. He placed the sword on the ground, crouching with it, as his eyes stared into the void below… where his beloved was waiting.
Forgive me for what I’ve done to you.
He adjusted his legs enough to get down on one knee before lifting his voice into the night sky.
You know I had no choice, or else my father would harm you, but please do not fret. Rest easy and know that we’ll be reunited soon…
He hesitated, but his hands already reached for the handle—determined to give his gift. Tears welled, but he’d reassure himself by releasing his burdens with closed eyes… and with a smile.
As we were made whole, I will return to your arms, and give you my soul…
His hand raised the sword over his heart, the same way he placed it on David’s chest moments before his death, and with a sigh, he gripped the sword and plunged it through himself. Blood rushed out as he convulsed and toppled over the edge, falling into the abyss. Air clawed past his body while strings of scarlet followed his fall. Darkness consumed him when he fell deeper and deeper… closer to where his beloved laid beneath the ground… until the mountain faded from view.
And then, he opened his eyes.
A cold replaced the warmth retreating into the emptiness of his room. He sat up on his bed.
***
Epilogue
“Jonathan.”
Saul called for him again, only to receive no answer. As usual, he’d lean against the wall, hoping his voice can be heard through the barricade when met with nothing but the wall to see… Maybe he’ll catch a glimpse of him. He hasn’t seen his face in so long. The last time he remembered his face-
Saul shut his eyes, sighing. He forced a trembling breath through gritted teeth at the memory plaguing his mind. He wanted nothing more than to reason with his son about the matter prior to his isolation, but days would pass ever since the death of David, leaving Jonathan to further confine himself to his room. He hasn’t heard from him in a while, but his muffled wails seeped through the palace halls when grappled by another night terror reoccurring at every hour of the night. And yet, he could hardly do anything but stand outside his room and hang his head to the haunting cries of his son, pleading for the name that has stained the air between them.
A shuddered sigh escaped as he pressed his face into the wall, pushing past the lump in his throat. “You knew what had to be done. But maybe it was cruel enough to have you kill the son of Jesse for me.” The words barely left his mouth before choking back on the tears rimming his eyes. He’d cup his face and shake his head, torn by what he had put him through after having David executed. His voice grew desperate for his son who’d been the one to comfort him in times of trouble. And now he was the one trying to comfort Jonathan, but his voice would go nowhere.
“David… he wanted to take my throne. I couldn’t just let a giant slayer walk into my court and steal the hearts of my people. The way they all sang of him slaying tens of thousands and me with only a thousand… what more can he have but the kingdom?” He slammed his fists against the wall, shaking at the memory. Not only did the shepherd warrior win the heart of his son and his subjects, but at one point he won his own heart through music.
At first, he treated him like a son. The musician would lull his soul to sleep every night with the soft thrumming of the kinnor, and in return, he’d clothe him in his royal robes and invite David to his meals for more of his songs. The gentle plucking eased his spirits, until the day of Goliath’s defeat had the shepherd strummed the wrong note, for he knew immediately who would replace his crown as Samuel prophesied long before his madness. Hashem favored the shepherd more than He’ll ever favor him… by having the boy distract his soul with a song, waiting for the right moment to strike his head, just like Goliath.
The itch turned into a rash when he couldn’t get the son of Jesse off his mind. Samuel’s voice echoed like distant thunder. David needed to die… or what will become of his house? His son? For if he took the throne, then he would have no heir…
It started with his spear hurling at the shepherd who escaped into the night, and one attempt led to another once Saul ordered that the son of Jesse should be put to death. But of course, Jonathan had to make it difficult. He’d wrestle with the guards bringing in David while spitting and shouting like a madman.
His son loved that shepherd too much… It almost disturbed him, to the point he needed to teach his son a lesson. He couldn’t love a man who’ll usurp the throne, especially when David carried the sword given by Jonathan, only for the sword to return in his hands to follow through with the execution, by piercing the one he loved so dearly.
For those who watched the scene, many of his servants turned away in shock, but he made sure every blow to the heart would count till his very last breath. However, the despair, the pure anguish in Jonathan’s eyes after finishing the job… he won’t forget the way his son stared up at him, covered in the blood of David, with a countenance so distraught, and yet so… empty. It never left his mind. The image followed and bled into his sleep when flashes of the scene sent him gasping on his bed, just as tormented than before.
Truthfully, he regretted making this decision, knowing he hurt his own son more than David will ever hurt him. Now he stood before a barricade separating what needed to be resolved without having received an answer in so long…
“Jonathan, please. You must understand that I was trying to protect our house, our kingdom, and most of all… you.” His throat tightened as he pressed his back against the wall, holding back tears, but they began to trickle. His lips trembled with words tossed into another deafening silence just like every other day, passing by the same room as he stood waiting, pleading… hoping his voice could be heard.
“I should have killed David myself.” A weak mutter barely left his mouth before burying his head in his hands, shaking. “I just… I-I can’t live without you, my son. But you shouldn’t have loved that shepherd. Fear bites at my heel ever since Hashem left me, and I had to take my chances. I always knew what’s best for you. I’ve wanted nothing more than to secure our lives, even in a kingdom destined to fall, all because of my fears eating me, and yet, I don’t know if I can continue on when you’re not near. What is a king without an heir, or a father without his child…?”
It took much effort to keep his bearings together, but eventually he’d compose himself with a sigh. He sniffed and wiped his tears after having stepped away from the wall to continue his day without Jonathan. Though, he hoped his words would reach the other side where his son may still hear him, if he ever does.
“I’ll be here if you need me.” Saul gave one look at the room, hesitating, but he’d turn around, as always. Leaving the room behind with slumped shoulders and a demeanor bleaker than his surroundings, he trudged down the hall to return to his quarters. At least he made himself known so that Jonathan may hear him. It’s the best he could do.
His sandals echoed, scraping the same beaten carpet worn by his constant pacing across the hallway, until they stopped. Something crawled on his foot. He lifted his leg and twisted it to find the culprit…
An ant. His face scrunched in disgust. With his thumb he squished it, but just as he was about to flick it off, his eyes widened. Leaning down, he examined it closely before peering over to the room then back at the ant again.
Every part of him wanted to move on, but despite the need to continue alone, ignoring the memories, his actions, and the regret searing through his heart… he simply couldn’t. It’s been weeks.
Saul, without thinking, returned to the room, but this time he went to fetch his spear. After storming back from his quarters, he would stand before the barricade again. Hidden behind the curtained entrance, tables, stools, and various belongings stacked on top of each other, blocking the room, but with his spear he pried the curtain open, ready for the silence to end.
“Jonathan, I’m coming in.” He grumbled, jabbing at the barricade. The tip of his spear barely went through, so he tried using his weight, but it wouldn’t budge. Everything had been tightly packed together, but he pushed on without ever stopping. This ends now.
A growl ripped through his throat as he shoved and thrust his spear into the load, pulling it apart when the tables began toppling over. A stream of ants came trickling down with the items falling to the floor, but eventually his feet kicked through the barricade until it finally tipped over, peeling open the entrance with a loud crash.
A putrid stench immediately hit him before he could enter. The room had been dimly lit by the faint morning light, and upon stumbling through the mess to investigate, he noticed most of the light being blocked by a swarm of flies huddling beneath the tapestry that covered the window. He further trudged his way in, trying to discern his surroundings. Some of the flies slipped into the room and circled around his arms waving them away, but after struggling through the rubbish, unsure of where he was setting his foot on, his eyes caught sight of a line trailing down the walls. He took a step closer.
Almost like a river, swaths of ants rushed down, leading his eyes to where they crawled up the bed, skittering across the pillow, then down on the floor as they reached a body… slumped over and rotting.
Saul didn’t need to look any further to know who it was. Instead he whipped around, gagging, with the blood in his veins turning cold. Not a word had been uttered when he leaned over and shook against the wall where their trophies used to hang. The silence replaced his gasps as he stood frozen in place with nothing else to feel, other than regret.
His eyes would close, taking in the weight of it all. Of course, it has been weeks since he last saw him. Day after day, he passed by the room, pleading to a wall, while suppressing the memories tugging his heart to check on his room, but he didn’t. He left him to rot.
What is a father without his son…?
His head barely lifted off the wall when the gleam of something bronze caught his eyes, drawing him back on the floor. A familiar blade stuck out of his son’s chest as it reeled in his gaze, and before he could step back, his feet had already reached the sword in front of him. Saul took it out of his chest.
Dissolved flesh stained the blade, but he wiped it off enough for his face to show on the bronze. A sunken eyed stranger stared back at him, rebuking his actions when there remained no else to blame for his madness. He deserved the punishment, and perhaps the will of Hashem has been done. With his sanity diminished, the crown fell from his head as his heir laid dead before him, a reminder for failing his kingdom and his son. He had no choice but to face what cannot be held back.
Saul lifted the sword, rubbing the handle, and without a word, he turned on his heel, leaving Jonathan behind as he approached the fallen tables. The various items once belonging to his son littered the ground until his hands took hold of the belongings and stacked them back up just as they were before entering the room. He barricaded the entrance from the outside, placing everything on top of each other with practiced ease, making sure no crack would reveal the room inside. Who knows how long his son had been rotting by his bed. His mind struggled to remember the last time he saw Jonathan alive ever since he closed off his room, keeping him or anyone from stumbling upon his body. It was inevitable to hide what he caused.
After setting the last item in place, Saul gave one last look at his son’s chambers and gazed at the hall ahead of him. At last, he could almost see it…
Sandals scuffed the floor once he began walking down the hallway… passing the pillars, the tapestries, the throne room, and the courtyard… till he stood outside of the palace. Darkness fell away the moment his feet brushed through patches of grass sliding past his ankles. Stones rolled beneath him, and a breeze slipped by when sauntering down the hill to reach the gate. It beckoned his steps beyond the city wall, and so he continued along the path. The gate faded from view as soon his steps halted to a warmth beating down from above, guiding his eyes toward the sky.
The mountain towered before him. He stood staring up into the heavens with the gift in his hand.