The Ballad of Death

Chapter I: The chosen one

''Aréeus” was his full name. He never used it tho. The sound of it made him feel too important, and everyone in the whole kingdom knew he was nowhere near “important”. He rarely heard this name out of anyone's mouth. Only his mother called him that, usually when he did something bad or when his father used to beat him up. She used his full name to remind him of his power. At least that's what she said.

For Aréek it was a reminder that he was about to be a king who will mark the failure of his legacy. Aréeus was a typical royal name, given to the bigges fighters and conquerors. It meant “the god amongst people” and Aréek couldn't find it any more funny. Every time his mother called him Aréeus he only thought of all the kings before him. Aréeus the third who summoned a power of the Blood Ghosts, who killed billions of his enemies, a ruthless warior. Aréeus the first who killed his own son and started a tradition of killing one's children to check their immortality. That's what (unfortunately ) Aréeus survived.

This tradition marked death to hundreds of royal children, such as Aréek's little sister, who was never given a name. Those who survived it, were proven to be immortal and worthy of the throne. Well... at least they should be.

Aréek sure wasn't.

So the great name was carried from king to king, each more powerful than the previous one. The name that was something like a promise- it's owner ought to be the most powerful king yet. The name Aréek hated with his whole, royal heart. The name that woke him up that night.

“Aréeus” his mother's voice was scared like ever. Her shaking hands touched his shoulder as she bent over him.

He lazily opened his eyes adjusting to the dark around him. When he saw his mother's pale and sweaty face, he immediately knew what that meant.

“He's dead, istn't he?” he asked, desperately trying to hide the shaking in his voice. When he saw her sadly noding her head, he felt as his heart beats faster an faster as a sign: He was not ready to be The King. But hell, he was going to.

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The smell of medicine and his father's rotting wound filled the air in the chamber. Aréek tried to remember when was the last time he saw The King, but nothing particular came to his mind. At that moment all that was, all that mattered was his dead father and the crown waiting for him on a red pillow.

He tried to act like he was griefing, standing above his father's flesh, but he really couldn't care less. For him he was just a King. A politician that recently died and soon he'll hear about this on the streets of Vilinovia. He was just a stranger, whose death was a key to the power Aréek never wanted.

Aréek felt his mother's grip on his arm. He wondered if she was actually crying for his father or for the lost power, that slipped through her fingers the moment he died.

“Leave us” Aréek commanded to the few doctors, who not so eagerly left the room. After the door closed, Aréeus turned to his mother.

“Are you ready?” she asked before he could say anything.

“For the crown? Or the unspeakable embarrassment of being the first king who doesn't even know how to fight?”

“Both” her answer cut the air and hit him right in the heart.

“Ouch”

She sighed and tightened her grip on his arm.

“Aréeus...”

“Don't call me that!” his scream made his mother flinch. “You know I'll never be like any of them.”

“No you won't. But maybe that's better.” she looked at her husband's dead body. “All of them... They were curel. They couldn't do anything but kill and steal. They lacked a pure heart. Like you”

Aréek almost laughed.

“Who wants a king with pure heart when he can't rule. How do you imagine this, mother?” He was towering over her, but somehow felt small asking her for such things. “How does a person like me rule?”

“You rule like noone ever had.” he could see a shadow of a smile on her face “With a brain. Not a sword.”

Aréek looked at his mother, her violet eyes fielled with dull hope.

“You can't kill with a brain”

“Oh do you?”

“You don't win battles with a brain, you don't conquer with a brain, you just don't.” he knew he sounded desperate, unlike a king should, but he didn't care. He wasn't a ture king anyways.

“You do everything with a brain. More than with a sword.” she looked up into his eyes.

“No mother. Not me.” he wanted to quit talking, to turn around and walk away, but then his mother's hand slapped him right across his face. He couldn't hide the pain and the surprise it brought him. This was the first time the ever hit him.

“For god's sake, Aréeus. If you can't be a king at least act like you can. This is all a play. Get in your role before they realise how weak you are and try to kill you.” she seemed completely out of patience and stormed out of the room, leaving Aréek alone with his dead father. She left him feeling guilty. Guilty of his weakness, of his fragility. But most of all: angry.

I'll act like a king.

He thought to himself.

Or I'll become one.

For him there was no difference. Either way he'd be doing something against his will.

He looked at his father's body and was worried to feel satisfaction. He saw how small his father really was, how mortal he seemed. A simple wound killed him. The mighty King of Vilinovia died during a hunt.

His smile faded as the realisation hit him. This sentence was exactly something that should never take place. He shouldn't die like that.

Aréek might have despised his father, but he knew him and he remembered how strong he was. He remembered how he never got a single scratch from a sword. Why would he die during a hunt?

Aréek came closer to the body, and pulled the cover off the wound. His breath stopped for a moment.

There was burned meat, rotting from the inside. Aréeus was no expert, but this wound was not from the hunt. And definitely not striken by an animal. It was a poisoning. Propably by an arrow as it went deep into his father's side so it must've been thrown from a distance. But still his father never got shot. He always had guards, looking for any danger to the King. The same guards Aréek will have. The traitors.