Soliloquy

It didn't have to be this way. They could've given me what I yearned for, It wasn't like they didn't know what it was. I don't believe I was a complicated boy, no, I made my intentions clear. I knew what I wanted, I made sure everybody knew. All I wished was for them to see what I was worthy of, for them to give me the praise and admiration I so deserved.

I should've known better. Of course, those ruthless, ignorant brutes that make up my tribe couldn't possibly pick up on the subtle hints I left behind. I assumed their apathy was by cause of my youth. I didn't worry, I would be a fellow man soon enough. I would stand on equal- no, higher ground to these animals, I was technically their prince.

Or so I hoped.

Yet I was betrayed, by none other than my own mother, my own flesh and blood! The one among the others I deemed to be different. The only one I had assumed would know better and notice the potential I, her son, her heir possesses... Yet she managed to only see a fraction of what I could offer. She saw me as blind, ignorant and empty just like all of those beneath her. No, I was even lower! To her, I was weak, helpless, unable to carry my own weight! She shunned my protests, refusing to consider what I may become. She could have had the greatest ally by her side...yet she chose to create her worst enemy.

There was a tale my father once told me or rather many times when I was a young boy. It was the tale of our tribe, the "Scourge of the South" as our enemies would refer to us as. I didn't care for the stories, but the tapestries are forever burned in my memory.

Filthy, motheaten rags, one could be forgiven for assuming them to be if it weren't for what else they presented. Despite their condition, the colors stood the test of time. Dark crimson, like blood, spilled over a battlefield. Our tribe was portrayed as a predacious swarm of beetles, rapaciously consuming anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Radiant golds, lush greens, regal blues, those were reserved for the noble creatures that represented our enemies. Horses, bears, wolves, reduced to dust and bone when the blazing sea crashed over them and swallowed them whole.

I despised this imagery as a child. What point was there in this way of living? What good came out of selfishly devouring everything in our path? Creating so many foes, only to mercilessly tear them down? I hated the idea of being scorned as another beetle of the swarm. Of course, my beliefs were mocked by those who heard. My father included.

"What good is there in being liked?" He would say.

"Other clans spend all their time trying to make nice with one another. And for what? Life's not about being loved or hated....it's about being fed."

...or eaten.

What a cruel, primitive philosophy I had thought. But I was naive. Now I see the true meaning in that childhood lesson. To get what I desired, I had to be what I had despised. If another savage is what my people so wish for...then a savage they will get.

Is this really what you wanted, mother dear?