My name is Alexandre Michael. My mother named me for two of Desetter’s greatest heroes. While, as a child, it was an honor to be thus called, I much prefer Cael. Prince Cael of Ozlen, High City of the Black Coast. This is my story. A story of honor and valor, of pride, of grace and nobility; this is the story of my life.

I was raised as the Heir to the Throne and am soon to take on the greatest task of my life: ruling my kingdom. My father, King Rhys, was my mentor. He was a great man, but also a bit of brute. My childhood was not all play and dreams, but mostly work and training; war tactics, swordplay and politics, everything expected of an Ozlenian prince to take the throne. The King was a warmonger, greedy, but he loved his children and his Queen. He did the best he could for his kingdom and family.

Today, on the Black Coast, is a sad day. King Rhys is not expected to make it past this night. All three of his Royal children have been summoned to his chambers. I know what he wants to say. To me: he will ask that I be the best King I can be for my subjects. To Crisja, my young sister: he will demand loyalty by making her promise to marry whomever I choose. To the youngest, Jonas: nothing more than to be a great man. My mother, Queen Rosiah, is most sad, though, I think it because she must relinquish her rule to me.

Head high and back straight, I enter my father’s vast chambers. The black and red colors that denote Ozlen are very prominent in his room. No light but what little could be provided by the wall sconces and the dying fire in the hearth.
“I am so glad you three could be here for this day.” Rosiah came from the dark of Rhys’ deathbed. Dressed in a very simple black gown, I could tell she was ready for the King’s mourning period to begin. The quicker it started, the quicker it ended, the quicker she would be gone from my kingdom.

“Oh, mother! How is father?” Crisja, ever the worrier, begged for information.

“Not good, child. The healer believes he will not survive the night. Let us not talk of this now. Your father has something important to say to each of you, alone.” She sighed, as though she was so burdened, and turned to Jonas. “You are to be first.”

Jonas wiped his eyes. The tears he shed as a man served only to show me how weak he is. Stepping to father’s side, he knelt and bent his head towards Rhys’ lips. I could hear nothing that passed between them aside from the sudden intake of Jonas’ breath. As he rose and came to join mother and us, he gave Crisja a sidelong glance before resuming his study of the floor.

“Crisja, dear girl, you are next. Be strong, but do not fear speaking your heart to him.” Rosiah pushed the angel-haired girl forward.

Crisja took her turn, mimicking Jonas’ previous stance. Their conversation took longer than expected and I began to grow impatient. I sighed when she finally returned. Her striking green eyes were soaked with tears, but when she looked at me, I could see something stir within her.

Finally it was my turn. As if I didn’t know, mother gently nudged me forward. Unlike my siblings, I received no words of assurance. As I approached my father, lying uselessly in his expansive bed, I saw just how sick he was. It struck me as odd that a man such as he would succumb to illness rather than dying like a man on the battlefield. Here he looked fragile and old; for the first time in my life I realized I had no idea of his age. No matter. In the morning I would be too busy with funeral and coronation processions to be worried about his age. I kneeled and bent my head towards his grey, dry lips. When he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper, “my oldest son, Alexandre. You know what I trained you for and I believe you are ready for any war. You are not, however, ready for the great responsibility that comes with the crown. My last declaration as king is this: Prince Jonas shall rule in my stead until you learn to love more than yourself. Do not be angry son, for you are a vain child in a great man’s body. You have much to learn. The day you prove to the kingdom of Ozlen that you love more than yourself and are willing to make the greatest sacrifice for your people is the day you shall rule as King Alexandre Michael of Ozlen. A curse be on your head if you wrong your family to get what you want. Cael, your sister is betrothed to a prince of my choice and goes gratefully to him. Jonas will sacrifice his life as a scholar to do this last task for me. You have yet to prove your worth. Go now son, and show us you are worthy.” He closed his eyes in dismissal. I slowly rose to my feet and without looking at anyone in the room; I stormed out and headed towards my chambers. I was stunned. Jonas?! The King’s stand in? How dare he? How dare that…that child take what was rightfully mine.

A knock at my door stopped my pacing, I snapped, “who is it?”
The door creaked open as my sister stepped through.
“Cael, I know not what father said to upset you so, but I don’t think it wise to throw such a fit. You are a man now and must behave as such.” Crisja was the only one in the family that tried to understand me.

Her heart was much bigger than she would care to admit, always compassionate and quick to trust. She stepped closer to me. Standing almost a full head shorter than me, Crisja was still an intimidating woman. A small frame with a sharp chin and an even sharper tongue at times; waist-length blonde hair and beautiful dark green eyes.

“Father has given the throne to Jonas until I prove my worth. What in bloody hell does that mean? I have spent my entire life as his personal sparring partner and what do I get? I am told to prove I can love someone other than myself. I am not so vain, am I?” I returned to my pacing, pausing at one of the many windows overlooking the harbor.

“Well, Cael, you are not exactly the most heartwarming man. You constantly talk about how great you are and never think about what you say to others. I agree with Papa. You are selfish. When was the last time you did something for someone other than yourself?” Standing her ground, Crisja put her hands on the hips of her golden gown.

I was silent. I didn’t know how to answer. I was sure I had done things for others.

“This isn’t why I came here. Papa asked me to choose an escort to the Kingdom of Kaina. I choose you and we are to leave three days hence.” Crisja turned to leave but I grabbed her arm.

“Kaina? Why? Don’t tell me father chose that coward of a prince, Zane, as your future husband? You would have been much better matched with Manius of Zorion.” I was upset with father’s choice. Prince Zane was bullheaded and yellow. I disliked him for numerous reasons, but mostly because he believed himself better than I.

“Yes, Lord Zane is my betrothed. Cael, we have been since I was but a child. If you had simply attended the ceremony instead of ignoring your family you would have known. And Zane is a pompous jerk, yes, but I swore to Papa that I would not let him down. Now let me go, there is much to be done in the coming days.” With that Crisja left the room.

I walked out onto my balcony and watched the sun begin its journey towards the horizon. So much had happened this day and nothing good could come of it. Jonas was Heir, Crisja promised to a spoiled brat, and I was left to serve as a personal guard. I hoped that in the morning, the bad dream would end.