(TW: buried alive)
Victoria IIII was descended from Queens — or so she claimed — and had the blood of Gods within her. She was to be buried like a Demi-God.
Most of her will outlined specifics: a large mausoleum, rare flowers, and for her servant, Terrance, to be buried with her. She had been vague on whether or not the servant should be dead when the burial occurred.
As she grew weak, Terrance snuck vitamins into her food. When she stopped eating, he put capsules in her water. He gave her the best food, the best medicine, the best of anything he could find. It was no use. Death came for her, and so too for Terrance.
He waited, surrounded by so many flowers that the smell became sickening. Light filtered in through stained glass. If the windows were lower, he would break them. But he couldn’t come close to reaching them.
A skeletal hand touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” said a voice like clear water.
“You’re just doing your job,” Terrance said. “That’s all any of us do.”
“Some things we’re tasked with aren’t worth doing,” the voice said.
“What do you mean?” He closed his eyes for a moment, only to blink. When he opened them, he wasn’t in a mausoleum. No more stone walls, no more flowers. In their place was an open sky.
For a moment, he thought he was in heaven. Then, he heard traffic. He was still alive. The servant of Death and the servant of the Queen went into retirement.