What would you do if there is no reason to continue on living? Fight, of course, and make your own rules.
In the year 579 of the tenth age of Thallium, a war-mongering kingdom home to the most stubborn of survivors, the Crown Prince is on the cusp...
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November 28th, in the year 584 of the tenth age of Thallium
Ω
As the doors thudded with finality behind him, Rex trembled in fury.
Silver eyes that were usually impenetrable sparkled with tears of anger and frustration. His entire body was shaking with the force of his hatred. Jaw and teeth ached as he clenched them. If there had been any passersby, they would have thought that the prince who would never be king looked – for once – exactly like his father.
Magyk began to crackle around him, unmistakable in its origin – and Rex couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. This, of course, was the best way to gain a death warrant.
I can't stay here, he realized with dread that pierced the anger, and set off blindly down the corridor. Only memory guided his steps as he dashed through passages and hallways and corridors, for rational sense had deserted him completely.
In his blind rage, Rex did not notice his dragon calling to him, nor did he notice the shadow that had appeared right after the incident – the shadow that, after a second of contemplation, had shielded him from view.
The doors to his quarters slammed open as Rex strode in, only to fall on his knees. He did not notice the crack as knees hit stone, nor the coldness of the floor. With his trembling arms supporting him, Rex started sobbing in anger and hate and disappointment and embarrassment and... Never had he let himself feel the full force of his emotions.
However, the King always had a way of bringing out the worst in him. As tears streamed down his face, and he gazed blankly at the portrait of the first Regency king – hung right beside the window – something broke within him.
It had always been fraying, what with his decision to live out of defiance and spite. The thread, by the time Rex had actively decided to go against the established order by doing the impossible, had been tattered and brittle. Today had been the death knell.
"What a disappointment. What use is an heir that cannot speak properly, much less think?
"So frail and weak... You would think he is an orphan starving in the outskirts, but he really is that sickly. Surprising he has not expired already."
"Truly, the foreign slaver barbarians have more worth than him, my King. He knows nothing of this nation, and knows nothing of the intricacies of rule. A relief that he will never ascend the throne, Crown be damned by the old gods."
"Shame he always trembles so... The option of him fulfilling his duty by serving in the war against Arwren ought to be the way he proves his worth. But look at him. He can never be on a battlefield, much less in a command position."
"There is a reason no one can stand his presence!"
"If only there was a legitimate reason to strike him off the official record..."
