Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

As they always did on this day of every week, they'd spent all morning dealing with the problems and concerns of the nobles and people who wanted an audience with their king. Since this was something Styxx would have to do once he ruled this kingdom, for the last year his father had made him stay and listen so that he could use his father's wisdom once he inherited the crown. While Styxx was here, he was never to move or speak. Only observe.

The "privilege" of attending these sessions and the "joy" of a drill instructor who lived to knock him around had been his sole birthday gifts last summer when he'd turned five.

With a fierce frown creasing his forehead, his father touched Styxx's brow. "You have no fever. What are your symptoms?"

"My head aches."

He rolled his eyes. "And?"

I want to vomit and I'm terribly dizzy. But he knew from experience that his father would only ridicule those complaints.

"That is all, Father. But the pain is ferocious."

His father glared at him. "You will one day be king, boy. Do you think they will stop a war or an uprising because you have a meager headache?"

"No, Sire."

"That is correct. The world does not stop for something so trivial. Now sit and listen. Observe your future duties. Your people are far more important than your boredom and they deserve your full attention."

But it wasn't boredom. Every shred of light or hint of sound pierced his head with a pain so foul that he wanted to bash his own brains in. Why could no one ever understand his headaches and how much they hurt?

Tears of pain and frustration formed, but he quickly blinked them away. He'd learned long ago that while his father would console Ryssa whenever she cried, he would never tolerate tears from his son. Styxx was to be a man, not some mollycoddled girl....

Trying not to jar his head while he moved, Styxx returned to his seat.

"Sit up!" his father barked instantly.

Styxx jerked upright then winced in pain. Don't show it....

But it was so hard not to. Swallowing in agony, he glanced out the window to see Ryssa in the garden with Acheron. They were laughing as they chased each other and played. What he wouldn't give to be outside with them in the beautiful sunshine.

Not that it would matter. Even if his head didn't hurt, Ryssa would never swing him around like that. She'd never laugh with him or tickle him. Her love was reserved solely for Acheron.

Turning his head, he tried not to think about it as another wave of misery pierced his brain.

Styxx leaned forward at the same time blood poured from his nose. No! Please, not now.... Please, gods. He pressed his hand to his nose, trying to stanch it before his father took note.

"Majesty? Is His Highness all right?"

Styxx panicked at the guard's question that brought his father's full attention back to him.

Rage darkened his father's brow. "Did you do that apurpose?"

Yes, I purposefully cut open my nose with no means whatsoever just to spite you, Father. I'm truly talented that way.

"No, Father. I shall be all right. It's just another nosebleed. It will stop in a few minutes."

The king curled his lip in disgust. "Look at you! You're filthy. You don't dishonor those around you or your divinely given station with such sanguinariness." The king jerked his chin at the guard who'd ratted him out and Styxx's valet who was charged with keeping him immaculate and presentable any time he was in public. "Take the prince to his room and see that he's cleaned and changed."

Great, I sound like an infant or puppy.

They bowed low before crossing the room to stand before Styxx.

Already dreading what this would mean for him later, Styxx kept his nostrils pinched together and slid off his seat then headed for his room upstairs. As he crossed the atrium from the throne room toward the main palace, he paused again to watch Acheron and Ryssa laughing and playing in the back garden. The bleeding in his nose worsened as did the voices that shouted even louder than before.

Tears filled his eyes. He wanted to scream from it all, and when Acheron fell and scraped their knees, Styxx couldn't take it anymore. He hit the ground, clutching his leg and crying out as his pain finally overwhelmed him completely.

Please, gods, please just let me die....

Acheron came running to his side. "Styxx? Are you all right?"

No. I live in a state of constant physical pain no one understands or has mercy for. And he was tired of it. Dear gods, could he not have one single hour where something didn't hurt?

"Styxx?"

He couldn't respond to his brother, not while he ached so badly and in so many ways. Instead, he stared at the blood on Acheron's ravaged skin. He felt the same exact injury on his own knee and yet he knew that if he looked at his leg, he'd have no wound to explain the throbbing ache he felt there.

"Don't get hurt again, Acheron," Styxx finally breathed. "Please."

Acheron frowned as Ryssa came forward. She knelt on the ground by Styxx's side. "Why are you lying here?"

Styxx pushed himself up before she could mock his pain, too. "I fell."

She glanced around the path. "There's nothing for you to trip over. What? You saw Acheron fall and couldn't stand him getting five seconds more of attention than you?"

Styxx glared at her as more agony split his skull. "Yes, that's exactly what happened."

"Have you another headache?" Acheron asked.

Styxx nodded then winced.

Ryssa scoffed. "Father says you only pretend to have them to get out of your responsibilities."

He gestured toward his soiled chiton. "What of the blood that covers me?"

"You probably injured yourself for sympathy. I know you. You're not above doing anything for attention."

That was so him ... never.

Unable to deal with her criticism, Styxx cradled his aching skull in the palm of his right hand and continued on to his room with his valet and guard trailing in his wake.

Acheron started to follow after him, but Ryssa held him back.

"Let him go, Acheron. He'll just get you into trouble like he always does. Come. Let us play more."