He knocked on the door and waited for her maid to answer. Per her normal routine, the maid didn't speak to him-the bitch who'd been attending his mother since his mother was a girl held him responsible for his mother's ruination and she despised him passionately for it.
With a curled lip, Dristas opened the door wider and allowed him to enter while his guards remained outside.
His mother was pacing in front of the window that looked out onto the back courtyard. She was more agitated than usual.
Men! I hate them all. They're worthless, faithless pigs who should be slaughtered and gutted. Every one of them! May they all rot in Tartarus for eternity!
Styxx drew up short as her enraged thoughts rang in his head. This was definitely a bad time.
As he started to turn around and leave, his mother caught sight of him.
"What are you doing here? You're not my Ryssa."
That was a definite affirmative. Her grand powers of observation never ceased to stun him.
He lifted the small wooden box up so that she could see it. "I was bringing you your birthday gift, Matisera. But I can see it's a bad time."
She raked a sneer over him. "Another cheap trinket ... Meaningless tribute from a worthless ingrate."
Not really. The cost had been rather dear. I should have spent the money on the horse I wanted. At least he would have gotten some joy out of that.
And a little affection to boot.
"I'll leave it here on your table for you." He set it down, his heart aching for the hatred his mother bore him. "Happy birthday." Wishing he could make her smile, just once, he turned to leave.
The moment he did, she shrieked in outrage.
Before Styxx could see what was wrong with her, he felt a sharp bite in his right shoulder. All her maids began screaming. Their voices, both in his head and out, were so shrill that he couldn't understand any of them. As he twisted around, there was another vicious pain in his arm, followed by another and another. Unable to comprehend the source of the sensation, he looked at his tiny mother and saw the bloodied knife in her hand as she pulled it out of his body.
She moved to stab him again.
Styxx caught her wrist and held it with his injured arm. The tip of the knife hovered directly over his heart which was what she'd have stabbed had he not stopped the blow. "Matisera?"
"I'm not your mother, you whoreson!" She snatched her hand out of his weakened grip. Then, cradling the knife in both of her hands, she fell against him, using her full body weight to bury the knife deep in his chest.
Styxx sank to the floor as his guards finally rushed into the room to seize her. Stunned and in shock, he stared up at the ceiling in horror of what had happened.
His mother had stabbed him.
Repeatedly.
The knife was still buried in his flesh ... all the way to the hilt. Biting his lip, he reached for it and jerked it out. Warm blood soaked his clothes as he waited to finally die. A sharp buzzing in his ears drowned out the sound of all the voices in his head, filling him with an unexpected sense of peace.
"Styxx?"
He heard his uncle's voice from far away. But he had no desire to go back to the hell he lived in. Instead, he closed his eyes and waited for Hermes to take him to Charon so that the ancient god could ferry him to his final resting place.
June 21, 9535 BC
Styxx rubbed at his brow as boredom threatened to kill him while his father conferred with the musicians over what would be played during his sister's coming-of-age banquet later tonight.
In spite of what Ryssa thought, she was by far their father's favorite. Even though his birthday was in two days, all preparations for his had been postponed in favor of hers. His father had even taken him aside three months ago to tell him as much.
You understand, boy. She reaches her full majority and it's not that important for you this year.
Truthfully, he didn't want any kind of celebration, ever again. Birthdays had never boded well for him, anyway. Neither his nor anyone else's.
At best all they did was remind him that he shared his birthday with a brother he was forbidden to see. And it wasn't like he had any friends to invite. Only users trying to curry favor with his father or with him.