The Price

The story of a young boy made king, the deep magical secrets of his heritage, and the deceit he will come to commit.

                Aden walked triumphantly into the great marble hall, his foot steps echoing loudly, as he carried his prize to the throne.  Only, his triumph faded quickly, turning into panic, as he saw the mass horde of servants and guards alike, gathered around the throne.  A maid bustled by hurriedly, rushing to the eastern corridor that led to the kitchens and bathing rooms, her expression was pained.

                “I am so sorry, child…” She whispered to Aden as she passed, bowing in a clumsy fashion.

                “Sorry for what?” He called confused, but to no answer. He dropped the freshly killed fox carcess he had been carrying, and his bow clattered to the floor. Aden rushed to the raised podium, where the throne sat, his tiny feet slapping hard against the stone floor, his tunic billowing behind him.  He quickly knelt by the kneeling crowd, who all whispered in a deadly quiet voice. “What,” he said frustrated, “Is going on?” Once more, there was no answer, but he heard whispers of,

                “The poor king,” and some of “dead,” or, “the poor child”. Aden was perplexed, and he was not impressed by the use of solemn words being spread, so he shoved past the group of kneeling servants, to get closer to the throne. He found his guard, Derrik, crouched before the throne, shaking slightly. Aden reached out and placed his child sized hand on the guard’s mail. Derrik jumped softly, and turned, his expression grave, he nodded though, and stood with a bow, giving room for the young prince.

                All of the other servants and guards stood too, backing from the podium. Only Aden’s cousin remained kneeling by the throne, he too, was shaking. He looked up into Aden’s eery yellow eyes, his expression keen but hurt…. Even panicked.  Aden saw resting on the throne, a silk purple cape, his father wore frequently.

                “What’s going on?” Aden demanded, stomping his foot, creating more echoes.

                “My cousin…,” He said gravely, “A great horror has been laid upon our family’s name…. My uncle, your father, has been….  slain.” Aden’s head spun. He knew slain was not a good word, for he had heard villagers speaking of hunting the golden dragons in the woods beyond. His father…. The king…. Had been killed.

                Aden cried out in agony, and lunged towards the throne, ripping back the veil that he now knew covered his father’s body. Beneath the purple silk, lay the charred remains of what once must have been his father, although it no longer looked like the man… Across the gold trimmed marble, teetering on the edge of the raised platform, lay his father’s sword; the silver blade, with a blue, twined pommel.

                Derrik, seeing the wild look in Aden’s eyes grabbed the sword before Aden could retrieve it. Aden found himself once more, on the cold floor, sobbing for his father he knew would never return, his fingers balled around the satiny silk of the cape his father sometimes wore. Tremors racked his tiny body, and he cried hard.

                Aden heard Derrik hesitate, and then there was a long sigh, as his boots padded softly up the steps. He laid his hand on Aden’s trembling shoulder. There was an uneasy murmur that rippled throughout the surrounding crowd. Aden whipped his head around, and stared fiercely into his guards eyes, tears dripping down his cheeks,

                “W-who did this?” He demanded, his voice trembling with his body as he spoke.  Derrik’s expression turned to sympathy, as he brushed Aden’s golden hair from his face with a gloved hand.

                “You need to cut your hair little boy…”Derrik joked gently, trying to lighten the mood, but Aden raised a weak, unsteady hand, and pushed Derrik away. He sighed, “I am sorry for this, child… I truly am. He was a great man…” when he said this, the other guards rapped their blades against their silver and blue shields with the family crest on them. “You now, must bare a great responsibility….” Aden’s cousin’s head snapped up, and he saw him through glistening eyes, listening with rapt attention. “You must take the throne, as is your right by birth. You must lead the people.” Aden stopped crying, and looked up, stunned.

                “M-me?” He stammered,

                “Him!?” His cousin shouted in fiery, “I am older though! I am a direct descendant too!” Derrik frowned at the 15 year old,

                “Yes, but he was Aden’s father. Only if something were to happen to the king’s children, would you take the throne.”

                “P-please! Give it to him! I’m only nine! M-my dad…” Aden pleaded, staring up into Derrik’s hazel eyes.

                “Yes! Yes, he wants me to have it…” He whispered excitedly, but Derrik shook his head.

                “No,” he said, lifting the glittering blade of Aden’s father. He admired the blade for a few seconds, before he laid the flat side on Aden’s kneeling shoulders. “I hereby, name thee, Aden Grace, to be the ruler of our people for the rest of his days.” He said, and touched both of his shoulders. Aden shook his head rapidly, tears once again flowing like a river.

                “No! No! Please, no!” Aden begged, but Derrik ignored his pleading, a pained look coming over his haggard face.

                “You may rise, King Aden.” Derrik said, kneeling on the floor, as the other servants, and Aden’s cousin knelt too. Aden’s cousin shot him a look of pure hatred, but Aden was too stunned to notice, as he scrambled to his feet, tripping over his green tunic, and brown, leather boots.

                “That’s not even how you name a king!” Caleb spluttered in outrage, peaking up from his tense bow. Derrik merely lifted the sword from Aden’s shoulders, and admired it once more, running his fingers along the sharp engraving within the blade.

                “The law of our kingdom states that there must be a king at all times. Yes, there is usually a coronation ceremony… But we have never… never had a king assassinated before.” Derrik continued to stare hard at the blade, and then he said approvingly, “This will make a fine blade for you… my Lord. Your father’s after all, it’s only fittingfor you to carry it next.” He handed the blade to the quivering Aden, who fumbled with the heavy weight of the blade.

                Suddenly, there was a flash of bright blue light, that seemed to emit from the blade, and course up through Aden’s arms. He dropped the sword like a bag of bricks, and yelped in alarm. Derrik frowned,

                “Huh… Are you all right, Aden?” Aden shook his head speechless, and Caleb seethed in silence. “Anyway,” Derrik continued, shaking his head, “You may plan a coronation for your cousin, if you really wish.” He said this with an approving smile, but Caleb opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut, and nodded his head jerkily.

                “Of course…” Caleb muttered, speechless. “Who would do such a thing though? To our king, I mean…” Caleb whispered, scrambling to his feet. Pain seemed to lace his eyes, as they gleamed slightly. Derrik’s face was of deep sullen, he shook his head slowly.

                “I do not know, who would create such an awful crime. Ecspecially, one so awful as burning to death.” He shivered, and stared into Aden’s shocked eyes, as Aden gazed at the glittering blade before him.

                The doors just then, burst open, and bright sunlight poured into the dark hall, a stationary guard burst forth, panic on his face, “My Lord,” He began, and paused confused, looking at Aden standing before the throne, and Derrik looked pointedly at the shaking boy. Understanding hit the guard, and his voice was more haggard and strained when he now spoke, “The Thief Lord, he was seen… Running from the Eastern wing of the palace. I pursued him the best I could,” He said earnestly, “but when I got close to him, he laughed…” The guard shivered, “It was an evil laugh, my Lord, so dark, and cold… and then, black flames consumed him… and he was gone.” The guard looked at Aden for guidance he knew would never come, for Aden had paled considerably, and remained trembling, as he picked up the blade.

                “Him?” He whispered, deadly quiet. A grimace over took Derrik’s face, and he nodded. Aden gave a strangled yell, and thrust the blade the best he could, into the marble floor, leaving large cracks that danced across it.

                Aden wondered, Why him? He was only a boy, and he had lost everything in one swipe, all because the Thief Lord…. “What did he take?” Aden growled suddenly, looking at his small audience in turn. There was fire in his eyes.

                “N-nothing, my Lord… That we know of, that is.He came, and then he was gone.” The guard mumbled hurriedly.

                Nothing? The man invaded his home, for the sole purpose of… of murdering his father.

The surrounding crowd was speechless, and the stationary guard took a step back. They were all stunned at the boy’s sudden burst of anger and strength, that should not have belonged to a child. Aden fell to his knees, and sobbed harder than before, ignoring the frightened looks.  Caleb’s expression darkened, and he trotted over to reassure his cousin, but still, deep down, there was a hint of a gleam in his grey eyes.    

*

 

Eight Years Later

                Caleb stormed into the hall, where Aden lay draped across the throne, the crown tossed lazily on the arm of the gold throne, and his sword dangling from his wrist.

                “Hello, cousin,” Aden said lazily, sensing Caleb’s foul mood.

                “Hello, Aden,” Caleb said, and Aden heard steel in his voice, laced with annoyance. “Once more, the Thief Lord strikes.” Caleb said tossing a sheet of parchment in front Aden. Aden’s hand tightened around the pommel of his sword, and he rose quickly, anger coursing through him. Caleb waved him off, saying, “No need for that, my King,” He said with slight disgust, that made Aden raise his eyebrows, as he sheathed his sword. “The man, comes, steals from whoever he can, maybe murders a few people here and there, and the he is gone. It is his way, and his people. They too, were seen.” Caleb said bored, slumping into a chair not far from Aden’s throne.

                “I will kill that man, I swear.” Aden growled, sitting upright in his throne. Caleb looked up annoyed, and resumed examining his fingernails. “Do you care about nothing, but yourself?” Aden spat, angry at his cousin’s indifference to the loose criminal. Caleb sat up straighter, and looked hard at Aden.

                “Some could say the same for you.” He shot back, and Aden cringed, “You haven’t exactly been the ‘most responsible’ king of our land, now have you?” Aden looked away, ashamed, then he said suddenly,

                “What time is it?” He demanded, and Caleb raised his eyebrows.

                “Ready for more sleep, eh? You sleep more than you are awake.” Caleb pointed out, but Aden shook his head rapidly,

                “No, I was suppose to meet Celeste in the garden, just before sundown….”

                “Well, the princess should be waiting right now for you. She’s hot too.” Caleb said with a whistle that made Aden want to smack him.  “Hey, have you done anything at all today?” Caleb said accusingly, and Aden paled measurably, looking frantic, it finally hit him..

                “Sundown?  Already? No, no, no, no! I left her waiting, and now I won’t have time….” Aden said frantically, and hopped down from his throne, and started rushing to his bed chamber.

                “You still have time!” Caleb called after him, but made no effort to catch up to his cousin as he continued to sit lazily. “A little early to be sleeping, don’t you think?” The only answer was the thud of heavy wooden doors, as Aden drew them shut behind him.

 

                Aden laughed to himself, of a bitter sort, as he felt the familiar rush of energy, and sensual charge begin to take place. He wished he was sleeping. But no, he hadn’t slept in eight years. It wasn’t that Aden missed the feeling of resting in a bed, what he missed was being normal.

                Every day, when the day begins to change from light into darkness, the beast within him breaks free, transforming him into an ebony black wolf. The legends say it is a sacred beast he becomes, of the royal family, but Aden saw nothing “sacred” about it, it was more of a pain, and he knew Caleb wasn’t bursting into a full-fledged monster outside in the throne room. The change, explained his father’s absence in the evenings, but he had never guessed it was because he turned into a wolf.

                To Aden, it was a pain. He hated himself for it. He hated the way he lost time with his… his Celeste, and his other family members. It didn’t really matter though, because Celeste and Aden no longer got along like they use too… Probably the whole arranged marriage thing, and the fact he couldn’t keep track of time, and hold a date.

                He could admit though, that he was a pretty crappy king. Ever since his father had been… murdered, he wasn’t completely right. He spent most of his waking human moments, in the sparring hall, working on his swordsmanship until he couldn’t stand anymore, sometimes. He had bent his whole life around the sole purpose of killing the man that killed his father, and Derrik. An eye for an eye. Shortly after Aden’s coronation and his father’s death, the same man, no doubt, once again snuck into the castle and slayed his guard. Aden had decided from that point on, that he would never grow to care about anyone again, they would always let him down.

However, there was Celeste… and her beautiful wavy blond hair that fell just right, and her laughter, as beautiful as her looks. Oh, and also Caleb, who had been there for him through it all.

 The other waking moments…. He was a wolf. He ran around the kingdom of Vespacia as a stealth like figure. Sometimes, he admitted it, he watched Celeste sleep, he would sit outside on her balcony, under the moonlight, the crest on his forehead glowing bright under the stars.  The kingdom, because of his lack of leadership, was in disarray. There was poverty everywhere, and they all knew it was his fault, but they all said it was just because “he was only a boy”, but Aden knew differently… He didn’t do it because he couldn’t, he didn’t lead, because he didn’t care.  

Aden didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask to become king. He didn’t ask to lead a kingdom, that has never before been let down. He didn’t ask to lose his father. And, he most certainly didn’t ask to become a wolf. If Aden had wanted to, he could be a wolf at any time he wanted,  but he never did.

Aden jumped up suddenly, from his panting stance on his four-poster bed, having a sudden idea. He would play the romantic tonight. He hurriedly rushed to his desk, and whipped out some ink and a quill, and some parchment, which he hastily wrote a letter on for Celeste. Rushing before the transformation took place, and he would run it down to her as a wolf. For, there was a no canine hunting policy. Funny, huh?

Aden felt his bones begin to shift, and his muscles readjust, as he sunk to his knees, and ripped free of his human form, and into his jet-black wolf form, and he was oddly relaxed. He was as dark as the night sky from the shoulder up, but his legs, face, and chest were painted white.Lining his legs in qually dark fur, were intricate patterns and symbols. He knocked his ink off his desk, and swore with a growl.

Then, he rushed to the large window- doors, that over looked the courtyard, where he could see Celeste waiting impatiently below. Beyond the courtyard, lay the small town within his kingdom, but his area of command was way beyond just the puny town, it was the whole realm.

He nudged the windows with his nose, and they creaked open, evening light flooding the room. He crawled out of the room, sliding on his belly from view, and he slipped through a decorate whole in the railing, hopping down to another balcony below. With one last jump, and a scramble of his cursed wolf paws, he landed on a rock within the courtyard, his father’s set up, of course. He leaped gently into the lush, warm grass.

Celeste was continuing to stare off in the distance, an impatient look on her face. Aden continued to crawl around her, so that he was a few feet behind her. “Where are you Aden?” she sighed, sinking onto a rock next to her, her chin resting in her hands, as she stared up with beautiful brown eyes at Aden’s slightly open windows. Aden wanted to burst out and tell her he was right there, but he knew he couldn’t do that, so he stole the opportunity to admire her longer.

Impatience seemed to get to her, as she reached hastily down, and picked up a rock. Aden knew what she was going to do, and lifted his head, wanting her to stop, but she didn’t see him, and she lugged the rock at his window with a crack! Aden loosed a growl, and she jumped up, whirling around in surprise, and she spotted the huge black wolf standing directly behind her, an envelope in his mouth. She cautiously backed up, but Aden trotted up and sat before her, dropping the slobbery letter before her in the grass.

Celeste hesitated, but reached out and scratched Aden behind his ears, which felt so good. “Are you my date, huh boy?” She said with a sigh, and looked deeper at him, “You have very, very bright blue eyes, almost like-“ She stopped herself, shaking her head, “At least you’re better company than that fool.” She glared up a t Aden’s room, and then picked up the envelope. Aden panted apprehensively, as she opened the seal and began to read it aloud, showing Aden the letter he wrote:

Dear Celeste,

I’m sorry I couldn’t make it tonight, you know I would never purposely blow off the most beautiful and wonderful girl in the world. I hope my furry friend keeps you good company, I trained him myself. I’m sorry he is not as handsome as me. I love you, my sweet princess.

Love,

 Aden

At first, Celeste looked angry, and Aden was afraid she couldn’t  read his hasty writing, but then she sighed, rubbing his head more fiercely now, “No, I suppose he wouldn’t do that.” Then she laughed, and said, “I’m sorry too, you are not as handsome as my Aden, but you are cute. You have such odd markings though…” Aden whined softly, enjoying the musical qualities of her voice. Celeste began to stand up, still rubbing Aden all the while, much to his pleasure, and then she paused, “You are my Aden’s messenger, correct?” She teased, but Aden wagged his tail hard off of the grassy courtyard floor, “Well, I want you to tell him this,” She leaned over, pushing her flawless face closer to his own, and he breathed in her deep scent, “Tell him, he better not be late next time, or there will be trouble, and give him this for me, you sweet boy.” She kissed Aden upon his brow, right where his markings glowed strongest, and then she stood up, smiling. “Now, go run and play!” She said with a shooing gesture, laughing all the while.

She shoved gently past him, her dress swaying lightly in the wind, and walked from the garden, leaving Aden to bathe in the moonlight as a beast.

 

Aden was in a particularly good mood the next morning,  that had been the first time he had ever shown anyone his wolf form, and it had gone over fairly well. He strolled into the cavernous marble hall,  that was the Throne Room, his boots clicking softly off of the polished floor, and his sword clanging across his leg carelessly in its sheath as he took his place on the throne.

As he settled in, he realized that Caleb was sitting in his spot already, simply staring at Aden. “You’re in an awfully good mood today…” He said, raising his eyebrows. Aden nodded, simply relaxing, “What do you have planned today, oh great king?” Caleb asked sarcastically, snickering to himself. Aden leaped up easily, a smile spreading across his face,

“I’m gone,” He said with a wave, as he exited the huge wooden doors. Caleb’s mouth was hanging open, and the guards protested profusely when Aden said he was going for a stroll, but he drew his sword, that all feared, and pretended to admire it, scaring the guards. “Now, it’d be a shame to dirty a fine blade like this, so early in the  mourn, don’t you think?” The guards nodded hurriedly, and scrambled for a response,

“Yes, m-my Lord, we a-are s-sorry my Lord!” They bowed, and backed up, giving him space.

The sun shone brightly on Aden’s bare face, as he squinted in the light of the courtyard.  In the center of the well kept courtyard, was the rock Aden had jumped so easily down upon last night. This rock however, was more than a rock.

With a sharp, short whistle from Aden, there was a bright light, and the crack of stones, as they seemed to melt off of the stone shape in the middle. The servants, who were trimming carefully around the statue, cried in alarm, jumping away, as there was a tremendous, roaring, squawk.

  Aden’s griffin leaped into the air, its huge wings beating hard as it took flight, and landed before Aden on the steps, staring affectionately up at him.

“That’s a good girl.” Aden said smiling, as he rubbed the smooth beak of his griffin.  Her sharp, powerful talons, raked the ornate stone, as she swished her tail in a happy manner. “We are going on a little trip.”

Author's Note

I believe I will change the beginning but I like where the story is going after "eight years later".