Chapter 1: The Prince
Derek
When Derek was born, the first sounds his tiny ears heard were the shrieks from his mother’s nursemaids. Taking his first breath, he hadn’t known what he had done wrong. As a child, he never entirely understood. The young boy had never seen anyone look him in the eyes but his kind mother. She held him close in an embrace, whispering words of comfort and assurance. Why? He was too young in those days, the simpler times he prayed for every night as his aching body folded under its weight. Even now, in the end, he heard screams.
The shackles gnawed at his ankles and wrists as he gave another futile tug. The clattering echoed down the empty hall. The cells that previously held prisoners were wholly abandoned, the rusted barred doors ajar. All open except for his cell, which had a small opening behind him, allowing a view to the outside. This was the last place he ever expected to be in his life—a dungeon. To be the one trampled on as he bowed his head in defeat inside a rotting cell.
Derek wasn’t sure exactly how long he had been down in this godforsaken shit hole. He guessed maybe five or six days. The dull ache of his stomach begged for appeasement. All they gave him was foul water, nothing more. He assumed that they meant for him to starve to death in the pitiful place.
Outside, the protests grew louder, mixed with a caterwaul of terror. The people out there, Derek’s people, were witnessing something too horrible to comprehend. He didn’t need to stand and peer out of his window to know what was going on. A sinking feeling dropped to the very bottom of his core. It was the sound of an execution. Those who refused to bow to the new rule were being slaughtered right in front of the gathered people. Perhaps his mother and father would be joining them soon enough, as would Derek. This was to be expected; after all, it was what his tutors had taught him long ago. The usurper culled the royal family to ensure none could reclaim the throne—even the young children.
What was happening to his brother right now? Where was David? His eyes began to burn, his face contorted into a wave of sickly anger. Those demented bastards were sitting on his birthright, slaughtering those who opposed. The rats who emerged from the filth to gnaw and scratch at the greater above them.
The take over had been swift and decisive. The king’s elite guard barely had time to retaliate, let alone react. It had been too late. The bastard’s men had infiltrated the Capital, memorized the guard shifts, and in one day, the castle was overwhelmed. Derek had tried his hardest to fight back though he was outnumbered, cutting down a few men before he was captured. But that didn’t save him from a brutal beating at the hands of his enemy. He assumed this was the same fate to befall his parents and brother.
A brute of a man stepped to the front. His voice boomed above the crowd, “Silence! Your king is about to speak! If you know what’s best for you, you will hold your tongues!”
Raising his head, Derek could feel the rage inside of him grow. He pulled at his chains harshly, the torn flesh burning. Now its bite was hardly felt. A part of him pleaded to keep his battered form on the ground, but against his better judgment, he stood. He fixed his eyes on the lithe figure ascending the stairs. Avalon’s men took the headless bodies on the platform away to make room for him.
His thick black hair was short and sophisticated. A grin plastered to his face, seeming pleased with the work he had accomplished. A face with high cheekbones, a raised bridge to his nose., and slender legs that looked tempting to break.
“All look in splendor to your new king, King Avalon the Usurper!”
Amid the quiet, stifled sobs could just be made out. This surprised Derek in the slightest. He had never viewed his father to be a King deserving of tears, but there they were. Or perhaps, they weren’t grieving for his father; they were weeping for their lives.
The tall pretender strutted along the raised platform, his trusty thug at his side. His voice was sharp, oozing with pleasure at the scene before him.
Avalon declared, “People of Dorian, we are The Unbroken. Today marks a new day free from tyranny. The day of liberation for Dorian’s people and my people!”
His men, some in the garb of Dorian soldiers, clamored in triumph.
“And not just the brave people you see before you, but those of you hiding in the shadows. Those who King Damien’s oppression has beaten down for 23 years now and under prejudice for even longer. Hunted like animals for being born with gifts we had no say choice to receive. Now, our kind will freely walk amongst you all, without fearing for their lives. The Marked Ones shall be marked for death, no longer!”
The mass of people met him with silence. Derek could feel every muscle in his body go rigid. Him and his people. Deceitful as they were dangerous, people treated Marked Ones as they did for good reason. Seeing what they had done was proof enough.
Noticing the people trying to hide their sobs, Avalon assured, “I promise, this blood will not have been spilled for naught. With it, we can cultivate a new beginning, a new life. But..”
He gestured behind him; two men walked up from behind, “...those of you who would stand against us, not willing to bring about this new Dorian...” The two men came up on either side of him. They both held up their arms.
“You will be bled out as an offering to this beautiful new beginning.”
Derek’s eyes glazed over. In their hands, the heads of his father and mother. Their mouths hung open, their eyes clouded with death. Carved into their foreheads was “tyrant” for his father and “whore” for his mother. A disgraceful end. He knew his father would’ve rather been tortured until the end of his days before it came to this. But his mother had done nothing wrong. She was innocent. Derek’s body slumped onto the cobblestone wall, sliding to the ground. Limbs as if they were lead, he stared into the void. The world began fading in and out of his sight. Idiot. Weakling. If his father could see him, he would say Derek was pitiful.
He glanced down at his shaking hands, pale and lifeless. Words meant nothing to him now. His world was silent save for the deafening ringing in his ears. Spiraling downwards, one thought pulled him out of the darkness. Had David been...Derek couldn’t even bear to think of it. What could they be doing to his younger brother this instant while he sat helpless to stop them? It made him sick to his stomach.
Quickly, that sickness grew into a maddening fury. He let out a guttural yell, pulling at his chains, the pain attrition for his failure as a brother and as his protector. His anguish for his loving mother, her legacy only to be known by the words scrawled on her forehead. He could hear jeering outside the dungeon where the guards held their position. They made a mockery of his pain.
Avalon’s voice slipped back into Derek’s ears. He stood once again, a helpless bystander to his demise. “King Damien and Queen Helena Solaris were thoughtless pigs killing out of fear of what they didn’t understand. Today their terror has almost come to an end.”
Derek’s dreads were confirmed.
He pointed towards the stockades with a spindly finger, “Within those walls is the last heir to the Solaris throne, Prince Derek. He waits to be freed of his title that was tainted with the blood of my people.”
Shouts and protests came immediately after this claim. Derek’s rage seethed within him. How dare the wretch speak of tainting a title with blood when Avalon killed to seize the throne. The hypocrisy of it made him want to howl with laughter until he stopped breathing.
Avalon’s knights stepped in, unsheathing their swords and directing them towards the people. Others, Marked Ones, held out a hand, unfeigned as they prepared to use their magic. This show of power quieted the crowd as protests were replaced with wails of mercy.
“I understand what I’ve said may sound horrific; let me ease your minds. Those who think these boys don’t deserve such a fate are correct. They don’t.”
His face looked almost sympathetic, and his words were woven cleverly, “The crimes of their parents are too great of a burden for them to bear. I can lift the weight of those sins from their young shoulders. Perhaps, Prince Derek will grovel in repentance as Prince David did before he was relieved of said burden.”
David was only twelve years old. He was a clever, bright-eyed boy who was always filled with wonder and joy. Derek could picture his brother, clear as day, running through the Castle Gardens. His bright blonde hair was shining in the sun while he chased his older brother. There was nothing left anymore, only memories and no reason to continue living.
