Happy Ever After

Bright

The minute the referee raises my hand in victory I rush to my phone.

I call Metawin's phone again and again but it just keeps on ringing.

I saw his name at the top of the archery scoreboards right before my match started and I thought it sportsmanlike to call him at the first chance that I got. One should congratulate even their rivals when they win fair and square. That's called good manners.

But perhaps Metawin was busy celebrating. If the doofus Hirun's unbridled admiration was any indication, then I am sure there were a lot of people congratulating Metawin right now. Patting his broad back. Holding his hand to shake it. Maybe some of them kissing him on the cheeks in excitement.

I can't help but let out a sharp huff. What use would Metawin have of my well wishes? I am just the Crown Prince. Why would I matter?

I stuff my phone back into my bag and walk around the boxing stadium mindlessly. My fists clench open and close with each step. I felt the itch to throw a punch.Why was this break lasting so long anyway? Can't my next match start now?

"Your Highness, is anything the matter?," one of my guards ask as I pass him for the third time.  I must have been making him dizzy.

"When is my next match? I am growing impatient."

"Lord Tybalt is your next opponent. The fight should start in a couple of minutes. But I do not expect the fight to last long, Your Highness. Lord Tybalt is not exactly known for his fitness. There is no break after that match. I predict you will quickly advance to the next fight with.." He checks his notes. "With Lord Teepakorn."

"Metawin Teepakorn?"

"Yes sir."

I could congratulate him in person after all.

I stop walking and take a deep breath. "Where is Lord Tybalt? Let's make this quick and painless."

- - -
"We apologize Your Highness. But no more delays will be accepted."
The judges firmly tell me the match will be forfeited in five minutes. They have waited long enough for Metawin Teepakorn. Any longer and it would attract complaints from the other competitors.

I nod my head. I had no excuses left to give. Promptness was expected in The Tournament as with any major sporting event. I am sure even a first-timer like Metawin knew that. So where was he?

I should be angry that Metawin was embarrassing me so publicly but my overwhelming feeling was dread. It felt like something was wrong, I just couldn't put a finger on what.

I look at the big clock looming over the stadium, watching the second hands tick with apprehension when I hear a collective gasp from the crowd.

I turn my head and see Metawin walking ever so slowly towards the ring. He seemed to be swaying side to side. I walk towards him, as fast as I could without breaking into a run.

Did he drink before the match? What was he thinking? How much did he drink? How will he fight if -

I see bright red liquid drip from his ear to his neck. And all pretenses of propriety leave me.

I was running.

"Bright," he smiles weakly once I am in front of him. "I think I have to sit this one out."

"Shut up," I growl. What the fuck was this idiot rambling about?

"Don't be mad my Prince. At least you won't lose to some viscount today," Metawin continues to joke even as his voice grows weaker.

"Shut up!" I shout no longer able to conceal my anger. "Shut up Metawin."

He probably saw the severity of what I am feeling manifest on my face and my body because he finally shuts his goddamn mouth.

I raise my hand and using every inch of control left in my body, I place it gently on Metawin's red face - I carefully examine his hair that's been matted with drying blood, his skin, the split on his lips, the gash on his cheekbone. His knees and calves had welts. Bruises were beginning to blossom on his arms.

I don't think I have ever been overcome with rage until this moment. All I could think about was snapping someone's spine into two.

"Bright I - "

I don't let him finish. "Who did this to you?," I demand softly.

He looks down and this time I put both my hands on his face. Wiping the blood and the sweat with my fingers.

"Who did this to you?," I ask my voice shaking now with all the anger I was trying to suppress.

"I don't know who they are. It doesn't matter."

I remain silently seething as I motion for my guards to act with my hands. They knew me well enough to know what I needed : a doctor, a first aid kit, water...the heads of the people who did this on a silver platter.

"Let it go," Metawin says as if he could read the murders I was planning in my mind. "Just let it go."

"Not even if they beg for mercy, Metawin. Not even then."