The Exiled King

He woke slowly, stretching out comfortably to hear the sheets rustling. Eyes shut, he nestled into the heat of the blankets, snuggling into a curled position.

Eventually he groaned and sat up, opening his eyes, but immediately shut them, hissing, as the bright sunlight hurt them. A loud knock on the door startled him, then he heard the sound of the door handle turning and the door swinging open on rough hinges. He covered his ears, trying to block out the grating sound, but instead of feeling soft, rounded edges, his ears tapered to a point. He squinted, opening his eyes slowly and scrambled out of bed, half-tumbling to the floor as he saw an elf entering carrying a basin of water and a towel. He stumbled over to her and grabbed the basin out of her hands, peering at the face reflected in the water.

The basin fell out of his hands and he sank to his knees, his heart beating erratically.

No… this can’t be! He thought.

A single, blue eye had gazed back at him. The other was yellow. Yet, the difference in eye colour was a far cry from the most shocking.

The servant had run out of the room in fright and returned a few moments with Dethemina and Galion, who knelt down and anxiously inspected Haverik for any injuries.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, in heavily accented common.

Haverik’s haunted eyes met Galions and he asked brokenly, “W-What have you done? W-Why are my e-ears so pointy? What happened?”

Galion gave his shoulder a reassuring pat and said, “You underwent the purification ceremony to purge the human blood from your veins. You’re one of us now!”

Haverik shoved Galion’s hand away, crying, “I never wanted this! How am I ever to return to human society now? I’ll be an outcast - I was lucky to be born without these cursed ears!”

Eyes burning with fury directed their gaze at Dethemina, who stood uncertainly at the doorway, and Haverik shouted, “I wish I’d never met you!”

“My prince!” Galion scolded, “Do not yell at our queen like that!”

One of them…? I never wanted to be a full elf. I could have lived a happy life, concealing my elven blood, in Sanobar with Father. I’ll only be an embarrassment to Father now, a son to be ashamed of. Shedding my human blood in favour of elven blood—no matter how I explain it, it sounds bad.

Tears fell to the floor, dripping from Haverik’s sky-blue eyes.

“Hjevi-” Dethemina whispered, stepping forward.

At that moment, Haverik snapped. A chilly feeling wound itself from his stomach to his palms and ice spread rapidly from his fingertips, creating a thick coating of glistening blue-white ice crystals all over the walls and floor of the room. The glass of the windows of the room burst in a show of glittering pieces as giant ice spikes grew in a circle, enclosing Haverik and Galion, but shutting Dethemina out with a spike at her throat.

As he breathed, steam was exhaled from his mouth, and he said with deadly calm, “Haverik was a half-elven human… someone whom I can never become any longer. Do not even try to call me by that name. I do not wish to hear that name come from your mouth. I cannot shame my parents by t-this hideous appearance.”

“I am discarding that name—it died with the human part of me, and I will take up a different name. One that represents my new shame,” He continued frostily, then gave a twisted smile, “How about Taryn, Mother?”

Galion straightened and stood, careful to avoid the ice spikes. He surveyed the damage to the room but said nothing except: “Please calm yourself, my prince. At this rate you will freeze the entirety of Silvardor, and in spring no less.”

Haverik, or Taryn, as he’d now decided to call himself, peered around and shivered.

“H-How do I make it stop?” He asked, his rage cooled momentarily.

I have no wish to harm innocents, however enraged I may be…

Galion was quick to instruct him and said, “Take a deep breath, relax and imagine the chill melting away. Let it return from where it came from… Oh, gods, Jaron should have been here. I’m not very good at explaining!”

I guess it runs on emotions, this strange power of mine, he thought. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling and quenching the burning core of anger in his heart and flooding his body with a cold feeling. A faint ticklish feeling invaded his senses, creeping from his fingertips to his stomach and the light sound of tinkling ice could be heard.

Taryn opened his eyes slowly and beheld a room free of the dangerous ice spikes that had filled it moments before. Only a chill in the room remained—a reminder of what had just taken place.

Galion heaved a sigh of relief. He peered out of the window and confirmed that the ice had disappeared from the city streets as well.

Dethemina whispered in Ovaal, “Taryn, we need to make an announcement. There is something I have to tell you, beforehand. Will you join us on stage afterwards?”

At his grudging nod, she smiled and began the explanation.

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“Come forth, citizens of Ni’aad! Let the words heard today, in the capital of Silvardor, be passed around to the entire country!” A herald shouted, drawing forth a massive crowd. Barely a day had passed since the sudden mass freezing of the city, and the townspeople were restless.

Dethemina teleported to stage with Taryn in hand. He peered at the crowd, recognizing all the people whom he’d met during his stay in Silvardor.

Using magic, Dethemina amplified her voice and announced, “Today, we crown a winter prince! Taryn, please step forward and say a few words!”

He walked forward and she laid two fingers gently at his throat and whispered, “Ak!”

Amplify!

“I’m here today to tell you that I will not be accepting the throne. I renounce my birthright and right to succession—the one you should welcome up here today is none other than my brother, Aranel Aegivyl!” His voice boomed over town, vibrating windows and sending birds flying from treetops.

Aranel stood in the crowd, astonishment written all over his face. As Taryn gave a smile and held a hand out to the boy, Aranel’s face twisted and he appeared on the verge of tears, but he wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, made his way through the crowd and climbed the stairs onto the stage.

“Just for the record, this won’t make me like you,” He whispered with a frown, but as the boy passed, Taryn saw a faint red blush creeping up the back of Aranel’s neck and the tip of his ears and Taryn hid a grin.

Dethemina motioned for the crown and robe, the robe a beautiful mottled fur piece, held in the hands of a couple of page boys, and turned to Aranel, who knelt before her.

With fierce pride in his eyes, Aranel recited, “I pledge to protect the honour of Aegivyl house as I bear this crown and take up the mantle. I shall be the next winter king, and I vow to protect my people.”

Dethemina nodded wordlessly and placed the crown on Aranel’s head, her hand lingering for a moment before she withdrew it and grabbed the robe. She draped the robe gently around Aranel’s shoulders and fastened the bejewelled gold clasp.

Aranel stood slowly, turning to face the crowd and grinned.

“When the time comes, I will take the throne and protect it with my life!” He declared, then said a little more quietly, “Though that won’t be for a long time, as my mother will still lead us for a long, long time!”

The crowd gave a rumble of assent, and Aranel smiled, waving to the masses.