I am Prince Thomas of Elysium, son of King Arbertrus, though that is not how history will remember me. I was born to the royal family of the kingdom of Elysium and my birth was marked by festivities and celebrations. I knew that I was to be king after my father’s death, long before I knew the alphabet. My mother told me that the first words spoken to me were, “He will be a worthy successor.” Maybe I wanted my father to see me as his son more than his successor, but I convinced myself that I probably wouldn’t have been that close to him anyway, not because of a fault in his personality but because of his lack of one.
It was my mother who first taught me that there was more to life than the path carefully paved for me long before I was born. My first memory of my mother was a sunny evening in the library of our castle. The two maids taking care of me since birth were trying to restrain me as I tried my best to loosen their hold. When I finally did free myself I ran to my mother, who was sitting on one of the large mahogany chairs, her face creased with tension as she read through a letter from another kingdom.
When I tugged on her hand she immediately turned to me and gave me a bright smile, pulling me to sit on her lap. I think it was then that I decided that my mother was my favourite person. My love and respect for her only grew with time. She read her favourite books to me and when I could read by myself, we started spending every evening, reading side by side, in companionable silence.
My lessons started quite early on, and unlike my sister, Arya, whom I loved almost as dearly as my mother, they didn’t include different subjects like literature, dancing and painting. I was only taught to fight. I became quite proficient in sword fighting and archery but was not as good as my father had hoped. My father insisted time and time again that with practice I could get worthy enough for the Challenge. The Challenge was an old custom of Elysium where every crown prince would issue a public challenge on their seventeenth birthday. If anyone were to accept the Challenge, which no one ever did, they would have to fight the prince, and if they won they would become the successor to the throne. I always thought this an extremely foolish tradition, thought of by egotistical kings who wanted to show off their power and had decided that if -when- I became king, I would decree the end of this custom.
I remember I had cried the first time I got hurt sword-fighting. One slow parry had earned me a giant gash on my upper arm that made me weep with pain. My trainer had been out of his mind with panic over how the king would react, but my father simply looked disapproving and told me to go on because wounds heal, but pride doesn’t. It was at the end of this day that my mother brought me to the library, and read to me again as she used to when I was younger. She had too many tasks to do, and so she read to me a correspondence letter from a neighbouring kingdom about their offer of alliance.
Then another about control over the kingdom’s lake. And many others. I found each letter enthralling and started to think of solutions to each problem. My mother had already thought of some, but there were others that she carefully considered and noted down. This became something of a habit for both of us, to convene at the library after we were done with our day’s work and go through letters.
I found the activity so enthralling that I soon started to read law books and documents about Elysium’s political history. As the years passed, my mother and many court officials started taking my advice on how to solve problems of the government and which actions to take in certain situations. I soon learned not to show my skills of diplomacy and political reasoning in front of my father though. The king believed that all rulers of Elysium should survive by brute strength and weapons work and leave political management to the Chief Advisor... in our case, my mother. When, one day, in court I tried to give him a solution to a plea made by the peasants of our land, he ordered me to stop at once and refused to take my advice even when urged by my mother.
As I grew up, I became better and better at diplomacy and remained only adequate at fighting, whereas my sister, I had noticed, had become exceptionally skilled at combat. Finally the day of my seventeenth birthday arrived. I donned my armour and walked onto the battlefield, feeling lightheaded, wondering whether it was selfish of me to hope some citizen would defeat me in combat and take over the kingdom. I issued the challenge, raising my chosen weapon, the sword and waited for the lack of response. But someone did step onto the battlefield. Someone who unsheathed their sword and answered my challenge, “I will accept.” Someone whom I knew would win the battle.
I didn’t care how it would look, I smiled wide and happy at my sister and watched as she slowly smiled back. My father could not stop the proceedings. We started the fight and it went just as I knew it would. Arya was too good to be defeated and when she disarmed me and stood soaking in the crowd's cheers, it was I who took her hand and raised it announcing, “I, Prince Thomas of Elysium, give over my right to the throne to your future Queen Arya.” The cheers of the crowd were deafening. I turned my head and saw my mother smiling at me, recognizing her own successor.
My sister’s first action as Queen was to make me her advisor. Together we ruled over Elysium, leading it into its best years yet. I am Prince Thomas of Elysium, son of Queen Verity and Advisor to Queen Arya. History will remember me thus.
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