A Prince's Prophetic Switch

Ishan (My favorite of all the chapters)

"It is easier to find men who will
volunteer to die, than to find those
who are willing to endure pain with
patience." ~Julius Ceasar 

When Jade decided to inform Ishan of how he'd be going to watch the Olympics, he put up a fight. But not because he didn't want to, he did, just not to watch.

"But can't I compete? I know how to ride a horse! I just did it!"

"Yeah, and that lasted how long?" Jade countered. "5 minutes?"

Ishan scowled, bobbing his head. "Yeah? So? Better than you could have!"

Jade rolled her eyes. "I'll ask."

Three hours later, after much persuasion to the Emperor, Ishan was joined in the Olympics.

"Yes!" Ishan said, pounding his fists into the air, and jumping up. He really needed to work on that land skill. He proceeded to land face flat on the roads beneath them.

Jade snorted, and Ishan groaned. "I think I broke my arm!" he exaggerated, and rolled around on the road, filth covering his toga.

"Get up. And quit acting like such an infant. There are people staring."

"So?" Ishan asks, not wanting her to think he cared, but he got up anyways.

"C'mon, Horse Boy, the Olympics are about to start, and you are not yet ready!" Jade stated, walking towards the Coliseum.

"Huh? Wait up!" Ishan said, running after Jade, quickly adding, "And don't call me that... Gem."

Jade rolled her eyes. "Just because I am named after a geode doesn't mean you get to call me Gem."

"Oh, it absolutely does." Ishan said, nudging her playfully as they walked. Jade hooked her arm in his, and just as a blush started crawling up Ishan's neck, she had thrown her other arm around his throat, putting him in a position where he could not attack nor break free. An action meant for self-defense, Ishan noted.

"Can you let me go now, Gem." Ishan said, not letting the nickname go. Jade pulled his left arm back, and he cried out in pain.

"Okay, okay! I was just kidding! Can you let me go now?"

"Sure." Jade answered, releasing her grip. "Now come on!" She yelled, running ahead. "We're going to be late!"

5 minutes later, after barely making it in time, Ishan was escorted into a small room at the edge of the Coliseum, where he was greeted— though it was hardly a greeting—, by 2 tired-looking men guarding the entrance. He scrambled to get ready, putting on the proper armor, a chest-plate, helmet, and boots, all of which were littered with cuts from use. Basically, he smelled horrible.

Is it too late to back out? Ishan thought, as he heard a guttural scream. Just as he did, though, Ishan heard his name being called out from the battle grounds. If it wasn't before, then it is now! He thought, and ran onto the field, quickly hopping up and onto a horse. His horse. Ariel! Then, even without a saddle, he rode. He carried his odd choice of weapons— a knife in one hand and sword in the other—, at his sides.

When he first passed his opponent, they tried to stab him in the arm, the one wielding his sword. He dodged, swinging his arm back in a circular motion, grazing the horse's neck down to his side.

Ishan muttered a curse. He hadn't meant to hurt the horse. Luckily, despite his initial worry, the horse threw his front legs, knocking the man off it's back. It was fine. The cut wasn't deep. At least, nothing Ishan couldn't fix. He dismounted Ariel, and tended to the horse's wounds, as cries rang through the Coliseum. Ishan only noticed after he was complete dressing the steed's wounds that they weren't cries. They were cheers. For him.

He then also realized that this wasn't the end of the games. After the man clutching his stomach was dragged off the fields, a new opponent was standing, waiting for him to remount. So, he did. 

And he won, time after time again, until he had defeated every willing opponent in the Coliseum.