Chapter Six: The Beast Sharpens Its Fangs
Side View: Shaghad
“OH, is that Prince Shaghad?”
My father, his lover Anita, and their illegitimate children Ismail and Aisha lived in the royal palace. My grandfather was busy every day with his duties as king. He didn’t see the quarrels in the palace and couldn’t publicly act on them anyway due to his position. It was in those unguarded moments that Anita would find me.
“What are you doing in a place like this, Prince Shaghad?” She smiled affectionately, but there was derision in her eyes. “What a poor little prince. You’ve suffered so much because of the princess consort’s crimes.”
As she spoke, she gripped my shoulder so hard her nails bit me. There was no one there to help.
Ismail and Aisha were called illegitimate children within the royal palace, but many nobles whispered rumors I was a child of my mother’s affair. If I really had been the product of infidelity, Ismail and Aisha would have higher legitimacy as they had royal blood from our father.
If that were the case, then Anita would become the next queen consort as the woman my father was infatuated with. No one could do anything then because it was possibly true.
“It’s all right, Prince Shaghad. It doesn’t matter who your parents are; I see you as my child,” cooed Anita.
“……”
“I am Raheem’s wife, after all. Even if it’s not necessarily the truth, you are, in a way, Raheem’s child. It’s only right that I, his wife, would treat you as my own. Poor Prince Shaghad, abandoned by your mother…”
Her smile deepened when she saw me stiffen.
“Though, if you didn’t exist, she wouldn’t have been run out of the royal palace. It was you who forced her into a corner. After all, it’s because of you everyone found out about her infidelity. That shameless Princess Shahrnaz. You did nothing wrong; you just came into this world, yet she pushed everything onto you and left the palace without you.”
Then she said, “It’s all your fault for being born. You must be punished,” and she dragged me into an empty room and stomped on my back, looking down on me in amusement as I groaned in pain.
No one helped me. No one reported it to the king, my grandfather. After all, I still didn’t even know who I should align myself with.
I didn’t say anything to my grandfather either. I was too pathetic. I couldn’t even say anything back to Anita because part of me doubted my own birth. I didn’t want to show my grandfather how weak I was for not trusting my mother.
“Shaghad, come practice swordplay with me.”
After Anita’s torture, it was time for Ismail and Aisha’s.
“They say Ismail is talented with the sword. You could have him teach you, Prince Shaghad. Then you’ll understand how you’re too big for your britches when people say you’re the next king,” said Aisha with a giggle.
“What a good idea,” said Ismail, then he dragged me off to the training grounds.
“Urk!”
“What’s wrong? Just blocking my strikes isn’t good practice.”
His sword swung mercilessly at me, landing hard, causing my hands and arms to go numb simply by blocking it, stealing away my sense of touch.
“Agh!”
His sword seemed likely to send me flying if my focus slipped at all. I put all my attention into it, but Ismail grinned, and then I felt the kick to my gut.
Kicking during sword practice was not something you normally did. It was sort of against the knight code of ethics. But this wasn’t true sword practice. This was just for fun.
Aisha laughed from the sidelines as I doubled over.
“Stand up. This isn’t over yet,” said Ismail.
Something bad must have happened to them. A lot of nobles made snide remarks to them because of their position and birth. I had to keep getting beaten until they felt better.
What in the world did I do? Is this all my fault?
My mother left because I was born, saying, “I want to be happy,” as she did.
Does that mean she can’t be happy with me there? I don’t understand. But that’s what she decided. That’s why she left me behind, to be happy.
✦ ✦ ✦
†††
“YOU just need to make your decision,” she’d told me. Her saintly aura of purity implied a reality whose cruelty was the opposite of mercy. “It’s the prerogative of the strong to interfere with other’s lives and decide what happens next for them.”
I took out the ruby brooch, the national treasure my grandfather gave me, and reflected on her words.
Lady Selena Violette. When I first met her, I was shocked by her beauty and the coldness in her eyes. And I thought, Ah, she’s the angel of death sent from the heavens to kill me. The chill and gloom I saw in the depths of her eyes wouldn’t let me think anything else.
Prince Evan told me she was my guard, but honestly, I didn’t believe him. I assumed there was some sort of agreement between my father and Astra’s king that would end with me finally disposed of. Eliminated.
And I didn’t care.
Every single day, my half siblings and their gangs or my stepmother would attack me physically and verbally, and I’d had enough.
I never wanted to be king. Ismail wanted the throne, and Father wanted him to have it, too. He was royal, if only half. It wouldn’t be impossible for him to take the throne.
One day, Ismail said to me, “Your mother might be higher ranking than mine, but so what? She abandoned you and ran off with some man. Your mother’s a slut,” and kicked me in the gut. His friends from class laughed at me as I gasped for air, then Ismail told them to beat me, and they did.
It didn’t matter if it was my home country or a foreign land. It was the same everywhere. I belonged nowhere.
“Who cares if you’re the son of the princess consort! You’re just an orphan abandoned by your mother! No one loves you; no one wants you!” shouted Ismail, and I couldn’t argue. Everything he said was right.
My eyes met a pair of cobalt blue eyes atop a tree. There was no sympathy in those eyes. They just looked down at me without emotion.
Who is she?
Something about her was different from any other noble. No one tried to be close to her despite her being a high-ranking noble, nor did they curry up to her.
There were only two types of people around her: those who instinctually sensed her danger and tried to eliminate her or those who were wise enough to keep their distance. Though, there was one exception.
But those two types of people had something in common: neither could take their eyes off her. Perhaps there was just something about her, something abnormal, or perhaps she intentionally emitted an aura, but people had to take notice of her.
“You’re not royalty; you’re a lowly orphan,” sneered Ismail, showering me with vitriol. “Your mother ran off with a man, meaning we can’t even trust that you have royal blood in your veins. Grandfather only treats you as the heir to the throne to save face for the royal family. Because he pities you. Inside, he despises you. How stupid do you have to be to not realize it, and how long are you going to act all high and mighty in my face? Just go away already!”
He had too much pride, and it wouldn’t let him accept people treating him like a lover’s child despite having royal blood.
So often, I heard his mother telling him he was the true heir to the throne.
It wasn’t like his mother truly loved our father, though. What she wanted was the position of queen consort. And she wanted to obtain the highest possible status and authority by placing her son on the throne.
Ah, I see.
Once I’d thought about that, I understood what Selena had meant when she said, “Only those with strength and luck can choose a future of happiness.”
Even Ismail, who’d won over these low-ranking nobles and was now beating me, was weak in the eyes of his parents. Children are weak. They’re so weak they can’t complain when adults manipulate them and turn their lives into a mess.
And thinking that made me pity Ismail and Aisha. They came into this world on the whims of adults, then were forced to live in the royal palace, which could only be called hell, and manipulated by the shackles that are their royal blood.
They went after the throne despite being illegitimate children to make their mother’s wish for the highest status come true, subjected to scorn and looks of derision as they lived in the palace just because their father wanted to continue living with the children he had with the woman he loved.
They can’t say no because they’re weak. They act like they want what they’re after, but they’re just obeying their parents. Their only option is to tolerate the situation. They are weak, and I am weak.
Then, is she strong?
Selena Violette is like a solitary beast no one attempts to approach. Would a day come when someone made her theirs?
“I find that hard to imagine…” I whispered.
She might make someone else hers, but I have a feeling she would never belong to anyone.