In the following years between the days in which Lucian was found by the king and the day he turned the age of ten passed in a blink of an eye,
each year seemed to have blended into the next.
Lucian's life was set in marvelous rich grand palaces,
where his every wish could be fulfilled and where his path in life seemed to be paved full of vast riches and gold. Yet, the more and more he went deeper into the life of a "prince", the more his past seemed to haunt him. \
Why can't Lucian remember anything beforehand? His mother's cold absence and the oppressive bitterness of abandonment had remained locked away in the depths of his consciousness but shaped him nonetheless.
From the Moment he was found adrift in that old run-down canoe, he had known nothing but the warm embrace of the sun's rays and the hands that had freed him from the waters. He didn't know what it was like to feel the embrace of a motherly figure or even the poverty that had shaped his earliest years. Still, there was something unspoken that put pressure on his life, His new life felt both familiar and foreign at the same time, Though Lucian often has fleeting memories of shadowy figures and sudden disjointed flashes of life he couldn't quite understand at all, though he could however since the hardship that resides in his bones, as though his own body carried an imprint of memories of which he seemed to have endured before though he couldn't quite put it into words.
Lucian's adopted father, The king of the Sanguinarian empire, was frequently away on business trips to the Middle Isles, traveling strictly for strategic missions. The Isles, located between the two opposing nations of Sanguinaria and Vertasia, was a vast land of trade and innovation, Here merchants from across the world, and even warring nations gathered, and where the king often used the isles as a place to secure immense political alliances and secret covert operations, working under the shadows to gain an upper advantage on the ongoing war. The Isles, rich in resources and various ancient villages, were also home to savage black markets where anything from Secret government intel to even banned medication and hitmen could be purchased, both bought and sold. The King's trips were often rather long, which led to Lucian's alone time with his thoughts and his textbooks- the king's voice echoing in his ears as he urged him to grow to fit into his future role.
As Lucian grew older, the privileges of his royal life seemed to separate him further from the " Worthless common folk" " according to his adopted father. At the age of ten, Lucian attended the royal academy, a rather prestigious institute where the children of nobility were trained in a vast array of the arts of combat, diplomacy, and governance.
Despite these luxuries that surrounded Lucian's daily life, Lucian felt alone. His nonverbal ness and awkwardness made him an outcast to his classmates who often neglected him and only ever regarded him with pity or disdain. They didn't understand him but they never even made the effort to get to know little poor Lucian.
He didn't even care to explain himself. He allowed them to think whatever, as he thought it was easier than facing the cruelty that floated just beneath the surface of each of their sinister youthful smiles.
The School was a place where the wealthy and also powerful came to hone and sharpen their skills and minds, Yet at such a young age Lucian quickly realized that his classmates were more attracted towards power and status rather than anything of actual value. Their taunts were a daily torture and nuisance, though it wasn't their words that stung the most, it was their prejudice and indifference, He wasn't even important to any of them; nor was he even considered an afterthought he was merely made a mockery out of, as the adopted son of the king did he ever really have any power.
Lucian could never recall his life before he was found floating in the lake, but there were moments in which a familiar pain would embody him- a sense of abandonment that ate away at him. He especially felt this overwhelming pain when he saw the poor working in the fields only to never make ends meet essentially being slaves to large businesses, which have no morality towards the hard-working lower-class citizens, When he had overheard the whispers of suffering that they had endured. He couldn't explain the sensation but something inside of him resonated with them.
Maybe it was the guilt of the injustice that he felt, the more he learned the history of his father's kingdom through generational passed-down textbooks when he was left alone while his father was busy lavishing it up in the middle isles when he had first read about the terrible atrocities that were committed by the first king of Sanguinaria, all he could do was endure.
I was Used to the gossip and whispers that followed me like a shadow through the grand hall of the Sanguinarian Academy. The other students still kept their distance from me, avoiding my gaze, and they would even mutter obscenities under their breaths whenever I passed by. " Why doesn't he talk to anyone?" one boy whispered to his short, pudgy friend during lunch period, just loud enough for me to overhear.
" Who knows? Maybe he's… defective."
I didn't pay this much attention. I simply sat in the far corner of the cafeteria, my food untouched as the taunting laughter of children echoed throughout the dining hall. Everyone thought I was strange, mute, stupid, and not even worth their time.
When I was younger I admit that it stung at first but over time, I learned to let their words slide off me like water off a stone. I already knew explaining himself would just make things worse than they already were so there was no point in even trying to clear any misunderstandings nor did I have the energy to care much.
The bullying was never new, but it has grown worse over the years, often a group of older boys would chase me in the school hallways and beat me in the wheelchair-accessible bathroom stall. One time they poured Indian ink all over my locker while he was in P.E., which got my uniform and backpack soaked in ink and ruined my books. But I never fought back, Don't get me wrong or anything. I could've handled everything all by myself but I decided not to as I didn't see the point at all. The other student's scornful behavior towards me didn't matter to me, what did matter was surviving.
I knew I wasn't better than any of them myself, but I didn't let their words bother me much after all, how cruel words other kids say affect the world itself.
At home, the Castle felt no less lonely, the guards were polite as they needed to treat all nobles respectfully, so I knew I wasn't special. While my father was away I often found myself losing time while reading about, strategic thinking, history textbooks, and philosophy. I enjoyed the quiet, the way words on a page didn't mock or make fun of me or even demand nonsense from me, but even in the library, the soul-crushing despair of loneliness pressed against me. One afternoon after a rather harsh day at school my father summoned me to his room and stated,
" My boy, you need fresh air," the king told me, his voice leaving no room for any sort of argument. My son, we will be going on a hike tomorrow. Just the two of us, none of the guards."
The Next day I had gotten up dreading to even wake up in the morning. I knew I had to get it over with so I rushed to put on a change of clothes and pack my equipment. We had left early when the first light of dawn danced throughout the sky in gold and pink shades. I followed my father's path up in the winding aisle, the weight of my school backpack was replaced by the weight of my silence.
The king looked back at me, " So tell me my boy, Lucian, how's school?"
I hesitated to say anything at all, the truth was clawing at the back of my throat When my father had asked me all I could remember were the atrocities that were done to me simply because I stood out. I looked down at my feet for a long minute. I got up and walked pitifully to my tent. The Next day my Father decided to traverse through the towering pines. I trudged behind my father, my small boots snapping the sticks along the forest floor. I wasn't sure why the king had decided to take us out on this hiking trip, I suspected it had something to do with the long silences that grew between us over the years.
"Keep up, Lucian" My father had called out to me, glancing over his right shoulder. Despite his softened tone, there were still undeniable remnants of the undeniable authority of a leader.
I quickened my pace, fixing the straps of my brown leather satchel which was slung past my shoulder.
" Yes sir," I had mumbled though I knew the king wasn't expecting me to answer back at all. We had walked in silence for a while longer, the sun shimmering through the crevices of the canopy above. My father finally broke the silence,
" Please my boy be honest, how is school going?" I hesitated, I could still feel the sting of mockery from earlier this past week, those taunting words of his classmates who had teased him of his silence. Mute Lucian, they had called him, though he knew for certain that he could speak perfectly well.
'It's good," I lied to him, keeping my gaze focused on the path ahead of us. " I've got good grades, and tons of friends, a lot of them."
The king stopped suddenly, turning to face me, His serious stern expression then shifted into a softened into such a rare smile." That's amazing my boy. You remind me a lot of your uncle when he was about your age, both of you make me so proud."
My chest tightened.
This lie resided deeper down into my stomach, twisting into knots like two serpents intertwining.
I wanted to tell the truth so badly I wanted to admit to my father I had no friends, and that my classmates thought me a strange man, I felt like a specter haunting their lives. But I just couldn't. My father looked so proud, and I didn't want to disappoint him.
We continued our climb up until we reached a clearing that overlooked the valley below my father and me. His eyes were distant, lost in a trance perhaps dwelling on a memory he had presumed was sealed into the back of his mind. The king finally took a deep breath and decided to sit down on a large rock, he gestured to me to join him.
"You know," the king had begun, his voice now more monotone and quieter," When I was about your age I didn't have many friends either. But not for the reasons you are thinking son."
I tilted my head in curiosity, " Why?"
The king let out a sigh, the weight of his years was etched into his features.
" When I was about your age I was already being groomed to rule. My father- he was the second king- he was not a kind man. He was savage and cruel, not only to his enemies but to his blood. His children were nothing more than tools to him, pawns in a game of his powers."
I listened intently as my father continued, his voice heavy with emotions.
" My siblings and I… we bore the burden of sharing the brunt of his madness. He would test our loyalty to him and the empire in ways that no child should ever endure. And when the time had come for me to overtake the throne, I was not much older than you are right now. I wasn't ready, but I had no choice. It was up to me to undo the damage the sanguinarian empire had faced due to his carelessness, I had to make something more than just a kingdom which was built on fear and pain."
My father's eyes had met my own, and for the very first time, I had seen not just a dominant ruler, but a man who held the weight of his past guilt and regret.
" I have carried that weight since," My father admitted." The guilt of not being able to save my siblings, and the pressure of even attempting to atone for my own father's sins, is a heavy thing to carry, Lucian do you know what it's like to drag along the weight of lies and failures? Sometimes it's necessary."
Hearing my father say this struck a cord deep within me that resonated with him, I too thought of my life, the guilt eating away at me. Compared to my father's burden, it felt meaningless and insignificant. Thought it wasn't his burden, and it was real. We began to descend back down towards the castle, I had made a silent vow, I would carry guilt, just as my father carried his own, and I would find a way to prove myself worthy- not through lies but through action.
Even if it meant bearing the weight of the world.