Hellion's Reckoning

The banquet was a grand display, rivaling the grandeur of a royal wedding. Ailog presided over the feast, surrounded by his most trusted generals and advisors. He sat with a proud hand on Felix’s shoulder, his smile shining brightly at the young Nightfang. Sylvis sat at the right hand of his father. The boisterous laughter and joyful cheers emanating from the splendid table elicited smiles and glances from all corners of the room.

Meanwhile, the Prefect indulged in a gluttonous feast, eagerly devouring cakes as servants hurriedly cleared the abundance of dishes that surrounded him. He effusively praised the king’s messenger, exalting the greatness that awaited him. Such lavish praise was a familiar occurrence for Sylvis whenever his father sought to manipulate him into usefulness.

Ava sat beside the lordling, smiling softly in her shimmering yellow gown. The Prefect had gifted it to her to express his gratitude for accompanying his son. It clung tightly against her thin frame, ensuring Sylvis’ lingering gaze through the night. She had woven her hair into an elegant braid falling down her back. Ruby stones and starling feathers adorned it, glistening purple and blue under the chandeliers’ light. Upon her head sat a floral crown woven with red roses, lavender, and yellow daffodils. Ailog had dressed her up as a spring goddess, a princess offered to him.

Ailog had taken great care to dress his son as well. A dark gold tunic had been left for him, to bring out the green in his eyes. It was his choice to weave beads into his own hair, something his father had protested many times. One braid hung over his cheek adorned with green and red jeweled beads. Women and hellions wore hair beads, it was unbefitting of a Lord. Thankfully he hadn’t spotted the dragon tattoo upon his shoulder, always covered.

She wasn’t an unpleasant dinner guest, but Sylvis didn’t know what to say to her. He wasn’t shy, but uncomfortable. Growing increasingly repulsed by his father’s lascivious stares directed at Ava, Sylvis observed a subtle shift in the banquet hall’s atmosphere as the night wore on. His father’s boisterous demeanor escalated, his laughter drowning out the surrounding conversations as he relished the attention and admiration generated by his ostentatious display. Casting a weary gaze towards his father, Sylvis recognized a man not tethered by duty, but one intoxicated by the allure of power.

His father wanted Ava displayed like a beautiful centerpiece, something he made clear with all the attention directed her way. “If he won’t have her, I will.” The man purred, causing the young girl to shudder. Sylvis shot to his feet, knocking his chair back. “Something wrong, boy?” Ailog snarled at his son, looking between him and his date as if to remind him of his duty. He forced him into this date and spent the night encouraging all his attendants to ogle her. In that moment, he wished to drive his spear through his father’s chest.

“Sorry father…” Sylvis ground out, fighting the growl threatening to escape. He pushed his hair back and turned to Ava. “All this noise is a bother; will you join me for a walk?” Sylvis offered his hand to her. As Ava took his hand, a sense of relief washed over her. She welcomed the opportunity to escape the banquet hall, even if just for a short while. Together, they slipped out through a side door, leaving the echoes of Ailog’s laughter and the whispered hushes of the courtiers behind them.

Once they were past the door, he took his spear from the guard he’d entrusted it with and dragged her with him. “That’s not for me, is it, milord?” Ava asked, her voice shaking as Sylvis pulled her through the castle gardens. “Afraid not,” He answered quickly, escorting her outside the castle grounds into the training field. “Unless you’d like to be put out of your misery tonight. I’d be happy to oblige.” They stopped, and he stepped away from her, huffing. “No thank you, milord.” she answered, shaking her head.

“Call me Sylvis,” he said as lightning crackled around the crimson blade of his spear. “O-okay…” she said, her voice a mix of shock and fear as he cried out in a mighty roar, rippling waves of red bolts around him. Covering herself, she fell to her knees. She remained untouched as Sylvis unleashed his power. Once his fury calmed, he breathed heavily and threw his spear into the ground. He needed to scream, to unleash all the anger that had been boiling since he arrived.

“A-are you okay?” Ava asked, cautiously approaching him. His bright green tunic shimmered as she reached out to touch it, revealing a ward around him. “I hate him,” Sylvis whispered, tugging himself away from her. “He’s all I have left, and I hate him.” He looked over at her, resting his head against the polearm. The lightning had destroyed the surrounding grass, smoke rose from charred earth and tiny flames withered away. “What about your friends?” She asked him, resting her hand against the spear near his face.

“They’re dead,” Sylvis answered, looking down at the grass. “They betrayed the king.” Rurik and Vayne had been the only friends he’d had. They’d earned their fate’s, but he still felt a pit of emptiness without them. The halls of Nightfang castle were lonely without their laughter to keep him company. Even the vibrant walls of Rouan’s palace offered no company besides his scheming father. “That’s right, I remember,” Ava said. “Inias Nightfang killed Vayne.”

Inias. The name always brought a growl out of him when he heard it. Inias caused all of this. If he hadn’t chosen to run off, his father wouldn’t have sent for him. The Hellion prince had chosen his side. He would betray the kingdom for the sake of those who would taint it.

“About your father,” Ava said, breaking the silence, “If I may speak freely, there are many who wouldn’t miss him if he were gone.”

His eyes sprung open. “Gone? What are you saying?” Sylvis asked, gripping his spear as he stepped away from her. “I see the way he treats you.” She whispered, eyeing the spear as she stepped back with hands raised. “Kill my father? Is that what you’re saying?” He demanded, yanking the weapon free. She was a servant, to even suggest such a thing was treason. There was a part of him entertaining the idea. His father had taken a city and, as his heir, Sylvis would reap everything. “No,” He shook off the thought and relaxed his arm.

Ava heaved a sigh when she saw the blade pointing away from her. Sylvis lifted a finger and glared, “Never speak of this again.”