The False Prince [Open]

[Ruppa]

Akkadian-Shakkad.
Guardian of His.
Though it wasn't the name his birth mother had given him, it did fit him. No.. More like it was he that fit the name. He was molded into it by his training, by what they wanted him to become.  By what he was now.  He had been heated and hammered like metal into this tool they could use.  A sword to be wielded.  A mace to bludgeon.  A shield to protect.  And all the while he was meant to keep his brother-prince entertained.  Guard.  Assassin.  A king's Fool.
But the prince wasn't at all his brother, he learned.  The shock of that knowledge shook him to his core.  The rock-solid body-guard felt like the very foundation beneath him had given way.  Why had his father -no, not his father- told him that he had been found as a child?  All this time he had believed he was the meaningless second-born prince with no real purpose but to protect the heir, when in reality he was even more worthless than even that.  Who the hell was he?  And why had his fath- the king - felt the need to tell him just then?  Did he know something bad was going to happen and was trying to protect him?  He had to know Akkadian would run away after hearing it.  No, he would protect his heir before he would do anything for a child that wasn't even his own.  Nevertheless, he did run and the entire royal family was murdered in his selfish absence.

Little details that his child's mind had just accepted as simply what was started to come back to him and he had to question them.  He questioned everything now.  Who he knew to be his family were all predominately white, gray, or fleabitten, while he was the near-literal black sheep of the family as dark as the darkest night.  How could he have not wondered about that before now?  And their faces.. he didn't look as much like them as a son should; their faces were more concave and dished than his own.  It was so obvious now.  He should have known.  How could he have been so naive and blinded?  He wondered how many had known his true story.  The true prince never seemed to notice his differences, or cared.  Suddenly a memory came back to him.  The princess Jjalari, just barely old enough to speak and be allowed to run off on her own, galloped clumsily up to her big black brother wanting to play.  They had chased about a bit until he nudged her just a little too rough and her awkward body toppled over.  Shock was in her big eyes and she looked as though she couldn't decide if she should cry or not.  He came over to her and pressed his muzzle to her little cheek, his warm breath gently blowing on her.  She settled visibly, immediately soothed by his presence.  "Anam ami," her little voice whispered with a smile.  His eyes widened at the phrase and he quickly glanced around to be sure no one could have overheard her innocent confusion.

The words can not be easily translated.  It is a phrase that can hold many meanings.  In general, it is a way to acknowledge a strong bond.  But even that doesn't suffice; it is so much more than that.  A dying mother could say it to her child as a way of saying "I will always be with you."  Comfort.  If Akkadian had said it to her, a brother to a little sister, it could be as if saying "I look after you" or "I protect you."  Safety.  Security.  Even then, there are other meanings it could hold.  But the way Jjalari had said it to him, the tone and inflection she used, very clearly claimed their bond as something very deep and personal.  Her version of the phrase translates closest as "Soul Love."  A connection of the souls can not be ignored or denied.  It is a bond of absolute in their culture.  Uncontested and unquestioned.  Such a claim is incredibly rarely spoken.  In fact, he doubted even the king had ever said it to his beloved Larsa.  Indeed, it was a very powerful thing, and should never be spoken so easily.

"Where did you hear that!  No, Jjalari, you must never say those words.  They are forbidden.  Very bad.  Do you understand? Never say them. Never!"
Perhaps he had spoken too harshly as he watched her eyes well up with unshed tears.  He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings.  Here he was, a trained warrior and assassin, and he couldn't bear the sight of this innocent little filly crying.  Akkadian walked around her and laid down against her back, nudging her cheek very briefly before he continued.  "Those words are not meant for a brother, my princess.  You must learn this and understand.  Never say them until you understand.  Ok?"

She nodded silently, but looked puzzled.  He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she worked through it.  Finally, she spoke again, her little voice confident and certain.  "Not talking to Sandad.  Tell Kade."  He shook his head slowly.  "You do not understand, Jjal.  It's ok to not understand yet.  Just do not say it again, ok?"  She remained quiet again, just looking at him over her shoulder as he lay next to her.  The fleabitten filly still looked confused, but resigned herself with a shrug.  "Sleep now?" she asked sweetly, and before he could respond she lay her head down and closed her eyes.  Akkadian stayed where he was for a few minutes, letting her fall asleep before he left her.

Looking back on the memory, he had to wonder if her child's innocence saw through what he as a colt ignored.  Had she somehow seen through the fake family relationship?  Or had she simply been confusing the meaning of the phrase or her emotions towards him?  No, it was preposterous to believe a little filly barely old enough to roam on her own would know before he that he wasn't really family.  He was letting this get to him.  It was starting to taint even his most pure memories, slipping in underlying meanings that were never there.  The incident with Jjal was simply a moment when a brother had to correct his sister on the words she chose.  Nothing more.

Akkadian gave a heavy sigh as he came back to the present.  The entire royal family was dead now, and he could only hope they had ended his little sister's life swiftly and painlessly.  The region he was from was mostly desert.  There were some cliffs and rocky parts, but the stone he stood on now was different.  It almost had a metallic ring to it as he walked, and the surface was stained a deep reddish brown.  There was a desert in the distance below, but it certainly wasn't home.  He had no where to go and so he meandered into a band of fellow quads called the Syndicate.  He didn't want to be asked about his past and nobody there ever tried.  They didn't care who he was or where he was from.  Everyone there was only looking out for themselves, taking jobs for something in return that would somehow benefit themselves.  He didn't care much for the way they chose to live, but it was the best he had.  It would further his training, and he was certainly ok with that.  As a mercenary, he could use what he already was trained for and not be questioned about how he had come to learn these skills.  Guard, assassin, or whatever else, he was already accustomed to those tasks.  Until someone chose to use him, he would spend his day here and try not to think of the past.

[amity]

. . .A P H R O D I T E. . . crying out for 'coup de grace' It had been about two months since the mare had last seen Sinister, while he had been her best friend and eventually would have ended up being her mate everything they had been through was a front. A disguise to keep the naive yearling oblivious to everything she had no idea was going on, to ever war her father left his family and herd to fight in order to defend them, to every ‘trip’ they took to nearby territories when the wars began to near the herd lands. Everything her parents did to hide the cold world from the princess during her young years, this was what he also was attempting to elude her of. They were around the same age, just over a year when they met at the brook and she began her fascination with the colt. He was alone and there was no herd nearby that he could possibly have belonged to, he was on his own and needed somewhere to stay, and Aphrodite wasn’t one to turn someone in need away. She introduced him to her mother who couldn’t find a good reason to tell her no, to turn him away, even know she knew where he was from, his build gave that away, and did not trust him at all. He was watched after by the royal family and guards, became great friends with Aphrodite, and at night when Aphrodite fell asleep he slipped away and commenced his training. He trained for a good while and when he was commanded, he disappeared from Aphrodite’s herd to gather his ranks, then they attacked. Sinister killed Aphrodite’s mother and father directly in front of her, she was held still by assassins and forced to watch, her pelt splattered with their skull and everything inside as it was crushed beneath the massive hooves of her former comrade. Her spirit was crushed, she never before had witnessed a murder or even death. She was taken prisoner, subjected to torture and was taken advantage of as they tried to grow their ranks by force breeding the captives. She was told everything that had happened was her fault, she was clueless, she brought Sinister into the herd, welcomed him, gave him a place to stay because ’mommy could never say no to her princess’. When Sinister was done using the mare, he fed her more of the same lies, he made sure she was worn down and gave everything he had to make sure she died where he left her; but something inside of her kept her going, she eventually got up and walked on, she kept living. Syndicate had offered her food and shelter she had taken advantage of this, as one in her condition should. She faced to trials and was able to gain her weight back, going from canvas over bone, stained with her own blood, scars and mud to what she was now, a brilliant white splashed with a buckskin based grey, her tassels white with a grey base cleaned up and starting to take form of a sleek filled in mare. She still had some improving to do but she now was something to look at, her coat glistened in the light. Even more than the physical changes, her crown now is held high, she is aware of her mistakes and regrets it dearly, she has times of major depression but she is managing it now better than she ever had before. Unlike the swamp the mare had taken shelter in until this point, the land she found herself in now as dry and hard, there was still no vegetation hardly any water but nevertheless she was ever so thankful for solid ground; as well as the absence of smog. Each step the mare took seemed to ring in the territory, sometimes it rang loud other times it was muffled by foliage blown in from other territories or due to masses of sands that had formed from the ever blowing breezes that carried it there. While other territories she passed through to get here were cold with winters chill, this land was warm, nearly hot and the mare could not imagine being here during the peak of the summer months for it must be what death itself feels like. Big areas of the rock here was splattered and stained, chipped and cut telling stories of death, betrayal, perhaps even war. Many had died here, this was a land that called for respect and peace though that was not always the case and the surface of the earth told those stories well. Her crown head high and twin-towers rotating catching the noises ringing off the rock the mare advanced, taking her time and not rushing herself as she was taking this time to remember her parents and reflect on everything they had done for her; she was attempting to complete her inner peace if it was ever possible. Her body was carried very elegantly at a quiet gate with her head high and chest out. Slowing herself as a figure came into her view, the mare stayed back on her ground; she continued thinking about her parents but kept the figure in her view in case things went down hill. | Text | Speech | 0873 | Muse: eh Status: started out really well ended very rough