The Prince of Ilios

Forty

Nicola rolled his eyes. He had made time for all of the girls in the past two weeks. Three of them definitely saw themselves as front runners: Nissa, Ava, and Minerva. Some of them were too shy to even really look at him like Kendall and Derya. There was a mix of those in between, who he could tell were at the competition to appease their province. He felt nothing but friendship for most. And there was one particularly irritating girl who wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't even look at him. All this treatment after he had taken the time to actually be kind to her. Ellora was infuriating. Like a child, she couldn't take criticism. He knew that would make for a bad queen, it seemed like all he earned was severe criticism from those around him.

He tapped his feather pen into the ink, blotted it and began writing to his troops, but his mind was so distracted he couldn't finish the letter. The King's words of him finding a suitable queen resounded, invading his thoughts with a constant thrumming. It was said that a king without a queen would soon become a tyrant. So far he found that to be true in his father. He remembered a story that his mother told him when he was a boy, awakened from a nightmare. Her voice was always so soft and soothing, singsongy and willing him back to sleep with her soothing stories.

--

The queen brushed her son's golden locks out of his face and touched her forehead to his, "Nicola, my sweet boy, let me tell you a tale. A tale that was passed down through the generations of Ilios, from the time that it was formed.

Before Ilios was a land of greenery and mountains, there was no ports and clear open skies. There was a young warrior, the son of the leader of the tribe. One day he was out playing when he spied a bright light illuminating the sky like a shooting star, but it fell to earth. He was pulled to find it. He vowed to never stop searching for the light. Curiously he searched the forests for days, looking for that fiery light, but he could not find it. He did however, find an old woman, worn and ragged. She asked for food, and he brought her food. She asked for water, and he brought her water. She asked for a blanket, and he took one from his bed to give to her. She asked for the shirt off his back, and he handed it over. He was helping her, but longed to continue his search for the light.

After three days of running her errands the boy grew tired. She had asked for too much and he had given too much. But, she was so sickly, he could not help but take pity on her. That night he came to her like she asked, to find her lying on her deathbed, aglow with light. She patted the boys head, asking forgiveness for her selfishness telling him that she had been thrown out of the sky. She gave him as a gift all of the power that she had left. The power of the light. The boy glowed with delight, making it rain light around them, flexing his little muscles, but when he came back to thank the woman, the light that he had longed to search for, only for her to be right in front of him, she was gone, her words echoed through the forest.

"One day you will find one who matches your light, and do not deny them, or you will be denying your own happiness. To all things there is an equal, a balance. Find the one who gives you balance and you will know when it is true."

The boy grew up, took his father's place forgetting all about what the old woman had said. Completely enraptured in his newfound power, he provided for his people, protected his lands, and they became fruitful, but it was empty without someone to share it with. He remembered what the woman had said and began searching for the one who would fill his emptiness, who would give him balance to his racing mind, who would bring out the better parts of himself and be and equal to lead his people with courage and compassion.

After years of searching, he had given up hope, when he felt the need to go to the mountains. There, he found a woman from Sana, speaking to herself as though she had gone mad. He couldn't help it, he knew she was the one that he had been looking for. When she looked at him, clarity came to her mind and she was able to speak his language. She filled up his heart and his life, wanting to share in struggles and victories together. They brought even more prosperity to Ilios. The End.

My son, be like this boy and constantly search for the light. Search for someone to balance you and be your equal, someone who will challenge your strengths and build your weaknesses. And together you will be more than you could be on your own.

--

Out of this folklore came theories of instant connection through sight and touch. The idea of soulmates for the leaders of Ilios, but when Nicola had asked his mother how she had known his father was her soulmate, she only said, "I just knew."

Nicola's head pounded, he needed to stop thinking, to get out of here and do something, anything that wasn't being consumed with this stupid competition.

His chair gave a high pitched scrape as he stood and left as quickly as possible. Tonight was the ball and he had to let off some steam.

His feet carried him to the familiar ground of the training field. Assured steps broke pace, almost stumbling, recognizing the wavy blond braided crown in the warm-up bunker.

"What are you doing?" Nicola asked.

"Next, we have self defense here."

"None of the other contestants are here." He gestured around, irritated that his sanctuary had been invaded.

"They all decided to skip the class and prepare for dinner. I believe they are choosing dresses for the ball tonight." He took a scoop of water from a bucket nearby. The guards wore their training clothes, looking just like Nicola and Ellora's. Their wandering eyes made her self-conscious.

"I'd rather be here." She grimaced, "It calms me. We've barely done any physical training since we got here." Choosing a dress for a ball that she did not want to attend, sounded far worse than beating her body with training.

A tall guard with muscular arms stood up and came over to them while she was talking. His smile would have been considered winning by any of the girls. Ellora just glanced at him and turned her attention back to Nicola, until he spoke. His deep, booming voice echoed through the yard, "Look, Princess, you couldn't keep up with us anyway. So why don't you sit on the side and watch. If you were watching, we'd all fight better."

Is that supposed to be flattering? Her face reddened, her nerves on edge. Ellora rolled her eyes, opened her mouth to speak, but Nicola cut in, "Don." His body blocked her view. She was not very fond of this sort of treatment. She had always been allowed to speak her mind to her father, mother and siblings, so long as they were not in the middle of a council meeting. Instead, she strode over to a rack of swords and lances. She tested their weights in her hands. All of them were clearly too large for her petite frame. She grabbed a lance, scored a foot off the end of it with her knife and broke it over her knee. She held it out, feeling the balance and weight, throwing it into the air a couple of times, until she was satisfied with the handling. Since it took so long for her element to manifest, Ellora had spent more time learning about weapons when she was young. Knowing all eyes were on her by this point, she strode back over to the brute, "Don, was it?"

His brow raised as she set herself into a fighting stance.

"Let's see who can't keep up." Her temper had gotten the better of her this time. The man certainly thought he was everything a warrior should be.