a Life Well Written

Attend

Alexander put on his black boots, he grabbed his iron sword, and rushed downstairs. He grabbed a loaf of bread, put it in his mouth and ran out the door. He saw his father getting out of a carriage, Alexander rushed past his father, but his father grabbed his arm, he turned to stare up at him.

"What?" he asked, taking the bread out of his mouth, clearly not wanting to talk to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Father asked sternly, holding tightly onto his son's arm.

"The competition obviously," he stated as he snatched his arm away from his father. "Don't you remember?"

Father rolled his eyes. "You are not going."

"What? But I go every year. I have to attend it," Alexander glared at his father who just stared at him.

"You have studies to attend to," Father spoke as he handed him a book about the kingdom's history. "I want you to read this book along with many others that are in your study room."

"I am going to the competition whether or not you like it," he muttered as he threw away the book. "And I aspect you to be attending it."

Father now glared at him. "I have no time to attend your silly, little competitions. You are so spoiled, thinking I will do whatever you want. I have duties as king I must do."

"You will be attending, even if you're drunk," Alexander stared up at his father, his gaze warning him to do as he says. He then turned and walked away, his head held high as he made his way past the gates and to the arena where the competition was held.