Two

A Chapter by shrikey

8 years later, a young Shrike is summoned to see his father, and that can only be Bad news.

Two

Eight years later…

Shrike awoke to a wet and dreary morning, the sounds of a town awakening spilling in through the window. He lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling struggling to remember what was bothering him. He was fairly certain it involved Father. When did it not.

He heard a knock on the door, and Scipio entered.

‘Good morning little prince.’

‘Stop calling me that, Scipio. I’m not five anymore.’

‘Of course. Your Father has summoned you to his hall.’

‘Do I have to?’ Shrike wriggled further under the bed covers.

‘Yes you do.’ Scipio said firmly. ‘Your clothes are on the chair, I’ll send for you shortly.’

‘I don’t need to be sent for; I’m old enough to come by myself.’

‘No, you aren’t.’ Scipio turned and strode from the room.

Shrike rolled over, and buried his face in the pillows. It was never good news when Father summoned him. Last time it had been because he had slipped out of the Blackgate and into the surrounding woods. Father had shouted at him, and they locked him in his chambers for a week. He had said that for a prince it was dangerous to leave the safety of the town.

Five minutes later, Shrike was up, dressed, his dark brown hair untouched by the brush, seting off his gaunt cheeks and slim build, and being led to his father by a pair of sullen looking guards. Shrike was under the impression that the castle guard weren’t best fond of him. Not that he blamed them, One of Shrike’s favourite games was to sneak past them into the town, never realising that it made it extraordinarily difficult for those men to keep their oaths and protect him.

As he entered the hall he saw his father, sitting on his throne, with Mother beside him, Scipio just over his shoulder and a man Shrike didn’t recognise facing them. The man turned as he heard Shrike enter and Shrike tried not to recoil. The man was badly scared, and had an eye patch over his right eye. He didn’t look like a knight. He looked like a brigand. A longsword hung at his hip and a boiled leather jacket covered his chest.

‘Shrike’, Father said, leaning forwards on his throne, ‘come to me, son. Guards, leave us.’

As the guards with the dark heraldry of Blacklust emblazoned across their chests who lined the walls turned and left, Shrike stepped forwards.

‘Yes, Father?’ Shrike felt worried. He didn’t like the sad, resigned look in his father’s eyes.

‘Shrike’, Father began, as Mother began to cry softly. ‘You must understand, you are a prince of Blacklust, and I love you dearly, but there are those that would do you harm.’

Father stood. Shrike looked at him, his heart sinking in anticipation of the news.

‘You need to leave Blackgate. You need to leave the valley. It’s not safe. You insist on being wild and untamed, you run from those that seek to protect you, and if your own Guard can’t keep you safe, then no stronghold can.’

Shrike opened his mouth to argue, but Father cut him off.

‘You will leave in a week. I am sending you and Sir Derran’, he indicated the scarred man, ‘Over the Grey Sea. You will ride hard and fast past Deverath, until you reach the Border.’

Shrike was quiet for a moment, and then said, quietly, timidly, ‘Exile.’

‘Shrike, it’s for your own safety. If you only understood’-

‘I do understand’, Shrike spat, rage frothing up inside him. ‘You’re sending me away. You don’t trust me, and you think I’m not a suitable candidate for heir. I’m not like that Heckard Ravenfold, that model prince. But don’t worry, I don’t mind, I’m just eight, and eight year olds aren’t old enough to decide for themselves.’ He glared at Scipio, who recognised an old barb and looked away.

Shrike turned and stalked away. Lady Umbra tried to run to her son, but Lord Umbra held her back.

‘Lucan!’ She sobbed, ‘You can’t!’

‘I must, Carolyne. If Scipio’s informant is right, and Redrun truly is moving against us, he must be safe. He will learn.’

‘I will care for him, Lord.’ Derran said, softly, bowing his head. ‘We will travel light. Were you going to give him his birthright?’

‘Yes,’ Umbra murmered, ‘I owe him that, and he may need a weapon as strong as Arunlil soon.’ The lord’s hand found the hilt of his longsword. ‘Scipio, speak to the smith about that tomorrow. Let him decide on a weapon, I trust his judgement. He has been in this house for many years now. And leave Shrike to his chamber for today, I suspect he will be too angry to see any reason.’

Scipio nodded. ‘I will, sire.’

Lord Umbra nodded.

Shrike slammed the door against any who would try to reason with him and only when the bolt was drawn did he allow himself to disintegrate into tears. He couldn’t believe his father would send him away. He knew he had been a bad prince, that the guard disliked him and the only friends he had within the citadel were Scipio’s cat, Feral, his Shrike’s big sister, but Lucinda had been sent away too, sent to wed one of the Whyte Knights, and now he would have no one except Sir Derran, and he already scared Shrike. On the road he would not be a prince, and he would be alone with him.

But what hurt the most was the knowledge that he wouldn’t see his birthplace for a very long time. Being sent away like this was paramount to exile, or worse, disownment. Once he rode out of the gates he would no longer be Shrike, Prince of Blackgate, third of his lineage, But Shrike of Blacklust, wild as a cat and solitary as a wolf, left to die quietly, away from his pack.

As he sobbed quietly, he thought of his Father. Shrike knew that as a parent he was grieving as he was, but as a lord he was carrying out his duty. Someone like him did not belong in the courts of Lords and Ladies.

Little did Shrike know that it hadn’t been disappointment, or anger on his father’s part that had caused his expulsion, but fear for his sons life. He knew what was coming, and already understood what the outcome would be.

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