Fatal Bonds

I never thought I'd set foot into the castle. Yet, here I am, being escorted through the hallways, where the walls swirl with dignified gold - not a single patch without some intricate patterns telling an otherworldly story. Slender white pillars frame all the tall, black-silled windows, giving a veil of mystery to the world outside. The golden statues of goddess-like women and glorified soldiers follow us with each turn, like testaments frozen in time, silently warning me of my fate.

The boy flanks as close as he can ahead of me, right next to Black Beard. Not a word has been spoken since, but I can already feel the unspoken, impending doom.

It feels like an endless maze of hallways, harsh streaks of early morning sunlight bringing out the darkness of the shadows across the bronze-like tiled floor. Slowly, the windows start to disappear, and everything darkens, with an end approaching. An end where a wide wooden door stands. Several soldiers guard it.

This is it, I think. Except, I don't know what "it" is.

The boy looks back at me, face contorted with concern. His lips part as if he is about to speak, but Black Beard beats him to it.

"Better behave in here, boy," he grumbles to me as we approach the guards. "Open up - we ought to see the king for this matter."

The guards nod in sync and step aside, with two pushing open the door. I can't help but watch in awe as they peel back, revealing a colosseum-like room, except without the seats for the audience. Because who needs seats, when there's plenty of floor space for people to kneel before the throne, like a stone fountain, upholding a golden rimmed throne with crimson cushioning. So red that I wonder if it was dyed with the blood of those who dare defy the one that sits upon it.

I am taken across the red carpet with gold trims, staring up at the giant statue of a soldier lifting his sword in the air in victory. Two guards stand right inside, and two more by the throne, where the king watches from his elegant platform.

All I can do is stare, waiting to be thrown at his feet. Then, I am, and I look up at him. There is no doubt he is a king. His face has unyielding bones of perfect symmetry - chiseled jaw, sharp cheeks and neatly combed back blonde hair. It is as if royalty have something in their blood, something that pledges nothing but perfection.

I feel like nothing as he looks down at me.

"Who is he meant to be?"

Black Beard overshadows me, his meaty hands holding onto his scabbard that wraps around his thick waist. "I spotted 'em in an alleyway near the markets, with your prince backed into a corner and this one standing over a dead boy. A tad bit older than these two. Three other boys were runnin' from that alleyway, too - looked like beaten dogs."

The king lowers his gaze to me, eyes a fiery blue burning into mine. "Is that so, boy?"

My heart should be racing, but it sits stiff inside my chest. Even though he is talking to me, something tells me I shouldn't dare to speak.

"Father, he didn't harm me," the prince interjects, placing himself before me. "He was only trying to help me - these four boys from the villages tried to attack me. He helped me - he even killed one of them for me."

The king remains upright in his seat, although his fist moves to support his chin. He waves his fingers to the side, and the prince scuffles to the side so that the king may see me again. "Is this true?"

Reluctantly, I nod, weary to hold his gaze.

He rests both his arms on the sides of his throne. "And what is your name exactly?"

I pause, because I haven't a clue how I inherited my name, or how I still remember it. "Azael Aeron," I answer, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

He squints his eyes. "I've never heard such a... regal sounding name for a commoner," he remarks. "Tell me, from which village did you come from?"

"I do not know, sire."

His dark brows furrow deeper. "What of your parents?"

I swallow hard. "I do not know either, sire."

The king rises to his feet, moving down one of his steps. "How do you not know where you are from, boy?"

The prince rushes right to my side, extending his arm protectively in front of me. "Father, please - he did no wrong. He only tried to help me. Have mercy on him."

Black Beard grunts uncomfortably, his eyes shifting from the prince to the king.

The corner of the king's mouth twitches, in what I can only assume is anger. "You do realise that your new friend has committed several treasons? Mingling with royalty, not providing identification and manslaughter."

"All of which he did on my behalf, Father. And perhaps he could've been abandoned when he was little, with no memory of it. It is not his fault!" he exclaims, his voice high strung. "Please, Father, spare him."

I keep my head tilted towards the floor, where my knees ache against the hard tiles.

"Fine," snaps the king. He saunters down the small steps, his boots thudding deliberately against the stone. He lifts up my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You either die for the treasons you have committed, or you make yourself useful."

I nod slightly, despite his hand gripping my jaw. His eyes blaze right through me.

"You can fight, can you not?" he asks, his breath hot against my face.

I nod again.

His jaw tightens. "Then you will become a fighter, the second best one in this entire kingdom," he commands. "Second to my son. Your sole purpose will be to kill for him, to protect him, to follow him wherever he goes - to any battle. You will die for him, do you understand?"

"Yes, sire."

He abruptly lets go of my face, although he holds his attention on me. "You will be his deadly shadow, and you are never to outshine my son."

My knees go numb, and so does everything else. I don't know what I've gotten myself into - yet I do not feel fear. It is something else that stirs inside of me, something heavy with resolve.

The king paces back to his throne, turning his back to us. "Get up!" He orders, flicking his hand up behind him, prompting me onto my feet. "Get him bathed, clothed and fed. He will stay in Cassian's chambers. He must be prepared for his first battle tomorrow. I need to see proof that he can fight."