Dreamir's hand slipped onto my shoulder. "There, there, it will get easier as time goes on."

"I don't want it to get easier!" I sobbed.

Dreamir helped me to my feet and brought me to my room. "Shh," he said. "Boys your age shouldn't cry over spilled milk."

I glared up through my tears. "Spilled milk? Is that all human lives are worth to you?"

"There just humans," Dreamir said.

I shoved him away. "Just human? I'm human! Killing them makes me a murderer! And you're an even worse one than me! However many I've killed is probably ten times less than yours!" I shoved the spectacles on my face. "And I'd want it to stay that way." I turned on my heel and walked out of the throne room, through the halls, out the castle, through the courtyard and almost made it to the gates when Dreamir stopped me. "I don't want to have to control you the rest of your life," Dreamir said. "You're my son, not my slave."

"Then let me go!" I begged.

"Out there, you'll surely kill people. You'll never be normal, but maybe it's not all that bad, being special."

I blinked tears out of my eyes. "Why did you have to curse me to be this way? Can't you take it away?"

"Only if I killed you," Dreamir said.

"Of course," I muttered.

Dreamir forced me forwards, one step at a time. I tried to resist him, but it made my head pound and it took up all my energy, leaving me completely drained. I eventually gave up and let him control me. It was too exhausting.

He led me to my room and shut the door, not locking it. I collapsed on my bed, too tired to do anything. I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

~

After that, my life became a living nightmare. Dreamir forced me to train with Farid in hope for me to get stronger. Farid took it as an opportunity to beat me with a wooden practice sword for as long as I could take it. He was seriously asking for me to kill him, then and there. Sometimes my powers went haywire and something would explode. Than Dreamir would punish me and give me lessons on control. He was too busy to see what Farid was doing to me.

One evening, over dinner, Dreamir asked me, "How are your training sessions going?"

I didn't answer him.

Dreamir sighed. "I know you and Farid don't exactly see eye to eye, but I don't want you to hate it here. If you find yourself a friend, then I thought you'd be happier. No boy your age should walk the world alone."

I picked at my food. I hated it when he tried to make conversations.

After a minute of awkward silence, Dreamir cleared his throat. "I, uh, I made you something."

I glanced up at him over my skepticals. He told me to always wear them, even if it was only the two of us. Anyone could barge in and he didn't want me killing off all his subjects.

Dreamir took out a rod of black metal from under the table. It had a razor sharp stone at the end of it. "I see that you don't have interest in the sword, so I thought maybe you could train with a spear and shield."

"I don't want to train," I muttered.

"All men need to know how to fight," Dreamir said in a voice that made it clear that there was no room for argument. I ignored it.

"But if I'm ever sent to battle, I could just look at the enemy and he'd die on the spot."

"What if he doesn't look you in the eye?" Dreamir asked.

I shrugged. "There's always my fire."

"The thing is," Dreamir said. "You'll kill your own men with that."

I sat back. "So you won't ever send me into battle?"

"Oh, no," Dreamir said. "You're the prince. You're required to go to war when called too."

"Yeah, but what if I don't agree with the king's reason for war?"

Dreamir's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll make you."

I sighed. "Fine. Let me die. Thanks, father." Dreamir hated it when I used sarcasm. His eyes seemed to smolder. "You're a despicable son."

"And you're an insane father," I shot back.

"Why must you be so difficult!?"

"I don't know," I said in mock confusion. "Maybe, it's because I never learned that my father was an evil overlord who controlled his own son and held him captive and forced him to kill for the pleasure of it." I stood up. "Oh, and allows him to be beat by his own men. Seems like the perfect life." I turned on my heel and stomped off. I was going to find a way out of here, and no one, not even the king, was going to stop me.

I wasn't watching where I was going, and I ran into a serving girl. She hurriedly apologized and dashed off. I was about to go back to walking when I stepped on something. It was a cloth. I picked it up. "Hey!" I called. The girl stopped. "You dropped this." I handed her the cloth. She gave me a small smile. "Thank you."

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Greta," the girl said.

"You're welcome, Greta."

She smiled again and hurried off.

I turned to walk back to my room and found myself face to face with Farid. "You talking with the serving girl your majesty?"

"Maybe I was," I said, crossing my arms. "I was just being nice."

Farid laughed. "Don't go associating yourself with peasants, Asher."

"So what?" I asked. "We're all people."

Farid snorted. "The day you become king is the day I move to the Barbaric lands."

"Barbaric lands?" I asked. "Where's that?"

"You are useless, aren't you? Speaking with servants, knowing nothing of geography, or really anything else for that matter. Not even how to avoid this..." He drove his elbow into my abdomen. I groaned in pain, doubling over. "Or this." There was a crack in the side of my head and pain exploded. "I heard how you were talking to the king. You're lucky you're his son, or you'd get a whipping in public."

I cracked open my eyes. "I'm warning you..."

"What you gonna do, punch me? You're just living proof of what I said before. Useless." With that, he turned and walked away with that swagger in his step that made me want to kill him. But I couldn't. Dreamir would kill me for it. But I was going to get my revenge on him someday, and that smirk would be wiped off his face so fast, he wouldn't even blink.