A silken clad boy pulled the twine of his toy horse across the stone floor, trotting towards the doors to his father’s chamber. Leading his mighty charger across the cobbled stone floor, a big smile on the boy’s face. The guards that usually stood guard at the king’s chambers were gone, guarding down the hallway, there are no callers at this hour. The boy paused as he reached for the big brass door handle. Voices were coming from his father’s room. Abandoning his little horse he laid on the floor placing his ear to the space between the large solid oak doors. There was always something going on in the palace.
“...Prince Damon.” Boomed a voice the boy recognized as the court announcer’s voice.
“Thank you, Borin, I can see my son, you may go home for the evening.” The boy’s father said.
“As you wish, Sire.” Borin said, a door closed.
“Ahh, my son you have returned!”
“My King.” The boy recognized his brother’s voice. The boy went to rise and enter, but he was curious about his brother's appearance a year earlier than it should have been. And no one tells him anything.
“Please rise, Damon, I am simply your father in this moment.” The King said. “And who is this?”
“This is my associate, Matrik, he helps me with matters that I personally cannot handle,” Damon said with a smile in his voice.
“Well met…” The King said. But there was no reply. “Doesn’t talk much does he?” The King asked.
“Only when it counts,” Damon said with a hard voice.
“So what brings you home earlier than planned? You were not to return to us for another year.” The King asked after a slight pause.
The boy heard the sound of slow paced boots on stone. “Your time has come, Father. Have you selected an Heir?” Damon asked.
The King laughed slightly. “Back to the conversation we were having before you left. Not yet my son. I still have a few years left in me and you are the middle son. I am sorry to say that it will more than likely go to your elder brother, but not for some time yet.”
The boy pried the door open a half an inch so he could see. Damon was always concerned with who was the heir. Cecil knew that it was important, but as the last son, he was taught he would serve one of his brothers at court. Not that he truly cared for such things. He just wanted to show father the horse he had made. He saw his older brother pacing in front of their father dressed for travel and comfort. He did not even change before seeing father. A hooded figure standing statue still, behind him. The King was in his night clothes, not expecting a visitor at this late hour.
Damon laughed and gestured at his companion with a little bow. The hooded figure reached into his robe sleeve. The King stared confused. Matrik fumbled within his sleeve for a time before pulling out his hand holding something. He tossed a still bleeding human head onto the floor.
“What in the blazes?!” The King exclaimed stepping back a few steps.
“My brother was always too trusting,” Damon said kicking the head of his older brother at their father. “Now it’s just between me and little Cecil.”
The King caught the head of his eldest son as it rolled to him, lifting it to his chest. Blood ruining his silk night clothes. “You killed him? WHY?!” The king wailed.
“Simple. He was between me and the throne. But he isn’t anymore. Seems I have pulled ahead of that power struggle.” Damon sneered. “So, what will it be, old man? Name me the heir and you can live in any country you wish, except for mine of course.” Damon hissed gesturing at the throne room.
“You fiend! Leo loved you!” The king sobbed stroking the hair of his eldest boy.
“Very true. As I said. He was too trusting. It didn’t take much to get close enough to take his head.” Damon sighed loudly. “But...If you’re going to be unmanageable.” Damon said gesturing at the King to his companion.
“Guards!” The King yelled.
“They can’t help you from my payroll!” Damon laughed.
Cecil sobbed as quietly as he could as the hooded figure, Matrik, A name he wouldn’t forget, stepped forward and bowed. Damon crossed his arms. “Make it look like the little brat did it. That way we don’t have to do anything for that mess.” He said stepping to the side.
Fear froze Cecil to the floor, sobbing. He wanted to save father before whatever the hooded figure had a chance to do anything, but he couldn’t move.
Matrik spread his arms, a strange yellow light gathering in his face up palms. His head jerked backward as his frame started to fade. His body shifted and deformed, shrinking down to Cecil’s size. His outline moved like heat waves. Becoming an exact copy, wooden horse and all Matrik-Cecil creature leaped wrapping the twine from the little horse around the King’s neck as he stared into the eyes of his eldest son’s head in his hands. Pulling straight back, Matrik-Cecil feet in the King’s back.
The King’s eyes bulged as Damon started to cackle.
“Now we just have to find the little brat. At this hour he must be in bed.” Damon said watching his father slowly die at the hands of his magical companion. Damon stepped forward weaving as the King grabbed for him. “This Kingdom is mine now, you old fool. You had your chance to leave. You could have simply given me what was rightfully mine without trouble. But no! Never can do anything the easy way can you.”
A hand grabbed Cecil across the mouth, lifting him with another. Cecil was going to scream but it was Lord Henry, Father’s scribe. Lord Henry barely whispered in the young prince’s ear. “We have to get you out of here. I’m so sorry but I am no warrior, and your brother has too many people under his influence. We must sneak away.” Tears fell freely from the man’s eyes. “I tried to warn my King...” Lord Henry creeped out of the hall, with little Cecil in his arms. The sound of the dying king still echoing down the stone hall.
