Lord Peafowl hadn’t really meant to kill his father.
Granted, he had waited impatiently for his father to die, even secretly prayed for it on occasion during mass, but he didn’t intend for the old man to die by his hands.
If only he hadn’t said those things to him, shouting that he was useless, unworthy of his noble title, that his brother – his older, dead brother – was the one truly deserving of inheriting the family’s lands and gold… If only he hadn’t spoken such lies. But speak them he did and Lord Peafowl lost all reason. Blinded by rage and hatred, he attacked the old man, swiftly wrapping his hands around his neck, letting the mad fool gasp to death.
Lord Peafowl hadn’t really meant to kill his father. But who could blame him, really? He was the only heir of all the Peafowl estate – after that unfortunate ship wreck that made his poor brother vanish – and he was only taking what was his by right. Still, he thought it would be wiser to hide the accident from everyone else, as they surely would not understand and would only see him as a greedy criminal. He called the servants, sobbing, pleading for a physician who, on arrival, informed him there was nothing more to be done for his beloved father.
All was carried out as normal.
Which was why Lord Peafowl now wondered why the Queen’s Guard was banging at his gates.