Long Live The King

Chapter 01: AREN

I learned how to walk, read and talk early on. I never had any trouble remembering things. I lived in a giant estate with my mother and her family: her father, Edmund Reeves and brother, Latif Reeves. She was nobility, apparently.

                                                   But I wasn't.

The servants treated me well enough, I was just a one-year-old, afterall. A one-year-old with the ability to talk and act like a grown man, but still a child. My mother wasn't bad either but her father was a real pain. He always urged me to behave right and kept on forgetting my age. I mean, how can he expect a baby to act like a well-mannered prince (even if I was capable of it).

"Hold your fork right, Aren!" he yelled, "It isn't a knife!" 

I stuck my tongue out in response and stabbed the steak on my plate, I hated steak, I couldn't exactly chew it properly. The fork didn't exactly make it into the meat, though. I groaned in response, "Well, I'll hold it right when I get food suited for my age." My grandfather's son laughed, I wasn't trying to be funny. 

He's the most different in his family, rocking blonde hair and icy blue eyes. He's taller than the rest, too, and much more annoying, although he's still my most preferred. I suppose you could say that I'm a masochist for that.

"Aren, sweetie, don't talk like that, okay?" my mother added, concerned. "Sure, mom." I didn't touch my steak afterall, only munching on the skinned fruit Latif was kind enough to slice for me (after I forced him to, pinching him really is a useful technique).

"Hey kid, since you asked for it a few days ago, I've decided to buy you that thing." the sparkling blonde man-child said with a smile bright enough to light up the room... if the lights weren't on, of course. As great as he is, he's so wrong for that statement, I just had to correct him, "Don't call him 'that thing'! It's worth more than your limbs. Also, I never asked for it. It was a rightfully earned reward." He pouted like a child, an overgrown one, "My limbs are very precious, I'll have you know." "Sure."

Our exchange piqued the curiosity of another man that's a handful, my grandfather. "What are you two on about" he asked. I didn't give my uncle a chance to reply, he would just sugar-coat his own situation, "A cat. Cheshire to be exact. He lost the poker match so he owes me one." I did say I never asked for it, I demanded it. Everyone goes silent, I don't know if they're surprised he lost to me in poker or if it's the Cheshire cat thing, maybe even both. Mother breaks the silence, yelling at her brother, "Latif! Why would you teach him gambling!?" He shrugs, clearly not wanting to answer to my mother.

He changes topic fast, "The King has given his verdict." Mother goes pale and grandfather just smiles.

"So, what did His Highness choose for that bastard?" grandfather says, he's the only one that's happy about this. And me? well, I'm the only one that's confused. Latif answers with a hint of sadness in his tone, "Caesar is to be tortured every single day." Mom finally talks, "For how long, exactly?" He shook his head, "As long as The King lives, at best. The next ruler is the only one that can pardon him, if they even bother to." Mother gets even more worried, "He won't survive that. All his efforts will be in vain!"