Gwaine

PROLOGUE

It was the beginning of summer and the sixteenth of Gwaine's life. He was the crown prince of the Belthamar kingdom and had felt dread at the prospect of being king one day after his father's life is claimed by the gods, it was something expected of him. But what if he did not want to be king?

Gwaine had younger siblings who would be a better fit to take his claim but by royal decree it was the eldest son of the king should inherit all lands, income, and responsibility to uphold the laws of the realm. Unless... the king decided to write a will that favored one of his other sons to take over Gwaine's claim, and it was very rare for such a thing to happen as the current heir would need to die or abdicate but each choice that lingered in his mind can leave a catastrophic affects. One being obvious how is he to die even? Second abdication might cause discourse among the noble families as most believed the eldest are the strongest of their father's seed, but Gwaine did not believe such a tale.

The sky was blue, and the white clouds were sparse, and the sun touched all the realm on the parapets to the turret and stone walls. Farmers probable had already adapted to the summer for their crops, Gwaine thought as he leaned on the rampart's stone carved rails that saw over the courtyard where his brothers: Arthan and Cedric were sparring with blunted blades while the castle's Battlemaster pointed out their strikes and form. He felt the heat on his hands and stomach as his chest and head were covered by the shade.

Gwaine focused on his Arthan's movements who was born a year apart from him and sometimes were compared to each other in skill and mind. But their main difference was the ambitions they held. Once, by the hearth during winter, they sat sharing a flagon of warm ale, and his brother had mentioned a question of "what is the future of Belthamar in your reign?" he asked. Gwaine answered with "and by future you mean of when I am king? My answer everything will remain the same as it was before my only concern is whose Lord's daughter, I am to marry along with watching over the realm to keep order."

Arthan's eyes mirrored the hearth's flames yet, something felt different behind them when Gwaine looked over at him. They sat surrounded by darkness continuing to drink the ale with the painting of their great grand father that hung over the hearth; it was of Belric the great conqueror riding on a warhorse with kings and lords falling at his feet on field of battle. He had read books concerning him and some of it showed he was cruel with justice often murdering children who done wrong, but his greatest achievement was usurping kingdoms, toppling even the great kingdom of Mandar.

He snapped out of his recollection and saw Arthan quickly block Cedric's attack and did a step back then swung right which met a block then did an overhead yet as Cedric blocked, Arthan used a kick to knock Cedric off his feet.

"Well done!" Don the Battlemaster's long white beard swayed as he spoke. The old man wore a white shirt stained with sweat underneath his leather tunic that reached under his waist and calf length brown boots. A complete contrast to what Gwaine's brothers wore as they dressed in knee knee-high boots and tunics sewn of silk with red girdles.

"that's cheating!" said Cedric as he got up to his feet.

Gwaine stepped down the ramparts to join his brothers and his red cloak with a leather strap that went diagonally on his back and chest covering his right arm. A badge embroidered with a yellow griffin was pinned on his tunic, the sigil of the kingdom.

"no, it was not," Arthan replied. "I simply took an advantage while you were distracted by concentrating on where my sword went."

"You need to hone your senses, Cedric, otherwise you might have been dead twice already if you said during a real fight." Don wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"You fought well, Cedric, which is what matters." Gwaine patted Cedric on the shoulder with firm squeeze. "And there is always room for improvement."

Cedric had a sullen expression and let out a sigh. "thank you," he muttered but he heard it.

"Now, let us head inside and find something to eat. Do you want to come join us, Don?" Gwaine asked.

"No, thank you, my prince. I need to rest these old bones are starting to ache." The old man bowed. It was true though; Don had seemed to get slower and nearly took an hour for him to finally get up for the day as Gwaine noticed. Don was seventy-two as he served their family for thirty years as Battlemaster before Gwaine and his brothers were born. He fought alongside their father during the invasion of the southerners who seek to take Belthamar under their empire.

"As you wish," Gwaine nodded to him. "Let us go, brothers."

They ate in the grand hall of the castle on a trestle table where they sat but one of them was missing... their father. The healer had told them that "King Melron is still ill, my prince, and will not be able to move for a few more days." And how many more days then? Gwaine thought. Before he and his brothers returned to the grand hall, the court steward met them: Garod a man of fifty-two years and hair beginning to grey. The man was a pious one as he often prayed to the gods for wisdom but there have been times where it was not wanted. Gwaine did not wish to hear him and again he might have something worth hearing.

"My princes," he bowed his before speaking. "May we speak alone, prince Gwaine?"

"Go ahead," he said to his brothers. When they left, he spoke solemnly. "what is it?"

"My prince." Garod let out a cough. "I wish not to seem disrespectful, but I have prayed and prayed for you father to regain his strength, but it seems he remains ill. Should he not be able to recover... You become next in line to be king."

I know but how can I be king when I do not want it? He dreaded that much then anything else, he preferred to freely ride on his horse across fields and feel the air while enjoying the simplicities of what his life gave him. Often, he dreamt of the kingdom in flames and his people tearing into his flesh for being a horrible king. "I know, Garod."

"Thank you for taking the time for me I shan't bother you anymore."

He nodded at him and left. Pray and pray you do but what can I hope from the Gods? They did not help when my mother died during childbirth along with the babe. He stopped believing the existence of the Gods after his mother's passing and when it was preached, he cared not for it. When returning to the grand hall Arthan had asked what was wrong, he replied with "it is nothing."

They ate in silence.

After they ate; Gwaine saw his brothers leave in separate directions, he let out a sigh and wished nothing but to disappear for the rest of the day. In the grand hall where the sunlight peered on through the windows, he chose to think about the talk with his father involving his kingship it was during spring. He thought hard of what was said that day but only remembered few words. "Gwaine you will one day be king."

"I know father but..."

"But what?" Melron asked as he looked at him with a studying gaze. After a moment. "I know what you must think about the idea of being king it is a great burden and wish you can avoid it, yet fate has a way to put you in that path even if you try."

"And if I did succeed in not becoming king?"

He did not remember what his father said after that only his laughter.

Midday had passed. He walked the halls of the castle and reminisced on the laughter that once filled them when he, his brothers, and other children played when he was not studying on how to be the next king in line. Gwaine chose to visit the gardens that were tended to by the servants and once only his mother had gone there to water the plants, he remembered when she taught him about how to treat roses if too many grew and which to cut to save the rest. It was evening now when he sat on the grass feeling caress of them. And at that moment, he felt the tears swell in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. The strain in his throat was bearable but did not wish to howl his sorrow.

Somehow, he felt as if his mother was still there with him providing motherly comfort to tell him "it is going alright" and wished he can believe it. The sun started to set as Gwaine looked up at the orange sky to see the darkness begin creeping in.

He retreated to his bedchambers and stripped down to his trousers slipping into the bed feeling the heaviness of his eyes before he knew it, they were closed. All he saw now was darkness. Gwaine felt that he was sitting and suddenly there was a burst of flames in the hearth no one there but him, he looked around only to see the blackness. He looked above the hearth and the painting... something felt sinister when focusing his gaze. What was it? he thought when he saw the eyes of his great grand father eyes looking back at him, his eyes full of fire as his hand reached for the portrait's edges and let out a croaking sound as half his body climbed outside. Gwaine felt his breath started to get faster and chest thumping and feeling like he cannot stand to escape this horror. Only when the monster released a terrifying howl did he wake from his slumber to hear the banging of his chamber doors.

Gwaine felt his heart start to settle realizing where he was and reaching over whatever he could find to put on then opened the doors. "What is it?" he asked.

A guardsmen stood there with avoiding his gaze and said, "I'm sorry my prince but the king has passed in his sleep."