The Balance (First Draft | Discontinued)

Chapter 6 (Ari)

Ari made it all the way to his chambers before his mother caught up with him. He had run through the halls and up two flights of stairs, almost knocking into a surprised servant, before throwing open the door and flopping onto his bed. He was thankful that boys could run while it was undignified for adults, because he needed space from his mother and his guards even if it was only for a few minutes.

The way she'd spoken to that man... the way her eyes lit up after threatening him... she'd even made him kneel. All of the nobles just gave a quick bow and said what they came to say. That man had knelt before them and stayed that way the entire time, and since he didn't even have to be told to do it... how many times had he done it before?

"Ari," said his mother.

"Get out." He hated how his voice shook, hated the tears welling up in his eyes, but he couldn't help it.

"We need to talk. How you acted was unacceptable—"

"Unacceptable? You— you— what did you do to that man?"

"Aleksander requires a firm hand," she said, completely calm. "He's dangerous."

"I don't care what he is! You threatened to hurt him!"

"You asked to be included in ruling affairs. Sometimes that means dealing with people and situations in a way that may be unpleasant." She sat next to him on the bed, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. He drew back and a hurt expression flashed over her face. "Ari... maybe you're still too young for this..."

"Or maybe you're just doing it wrong," he said, placing one of his pillows between them. "Herr Hallessen always says that a good ruler is respectful and fair at all times, no matter what."

"We're at war, skatten min."

"No matter what." His vision was hazy, and on his pillow, he saw patches of pastel blue darken from the tears falling on them.

His mother sighed. "My idealistic boy... sometimes we can't be the heroes we learn about. The world is a dark and complicated place, and it has to be dealt with accordingly."

"Maybe it's people like you who make it that way."

She stiffened and when she spoke, it was low, quiet. "Listen to me, Ari—"

"Get out," he said, sniffling. "Just get out."

She looked as if she was going to argue, but there would be no point. He wasn't going to listen. She must have picked up on it, because without saying a word, she left. Ari hugged his knees to his chest, a boy alone in a sea of blankets, and he buried his face in the pillow to keep himself from sobbing. Was that what she wanted him to be? Would he only be 'old enough' when he was like her?

He didn't want to fight with her, but what else could he do? She wasn't hearing him. She listened, but she didn't hear him. He was too young, too naïve, too idealistic, too kind, too trusting— all things she had told him, and while she might have meant it as a mother helping her son prepare for the world, what he took from it was that he wasn't what she wanted. He was never going to be, either, and he was almost certain that she knew it.

Standing, he dried his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He needed to do something, focus on something, anything to distract himself. His sketchbook lay on his desk, but he didn't feel like drawing. He could go out into the garden and watch the birds, but a quick look out the window ended that plan: a flurry had started up. Maybe he could go down to the kitchens and snatch one of the rolls cooling on the windowsill, but the last time he'd done that, the chef had chased him away with a broom. Then maybe the library? He could finish the book he'd started earlier, or... his eyes widened as the idea hit him.