Styxx panicked at the guard's question that brought his father's full attention back to him.
Rage darkened his father's brow. "Did you do that apurpose?"
Yes, I purposefully cut open my nose with no means whatsoever just to spite you, Father. I'm truly talented that way.
"No, Father. I shall be all right. It's just another nosebleed. It will stop in a few minutes."
The king curled his lip in disgust. "Look at you! You're filthy. You don't dishonor those around you or your divinely given station with such sanguinariness." The king jerked his chin at the guard who'd ratted him out and Styxx's valet who was charged with keeping him immaculate and presentable any time he was in public. "Take the prince to his room and see that he's cleaned and changed."
Great, I sound like an infant or puppy.
They bowed low before crossing the room to stand before Styxx.
Already dreading what this would mean for him later, Styxx kept his nostrils pinched together and slid off his seat then headed for his room upstairs. As he crossed the atrium from the throne room toward the main palace, he paused again to watch Acheron and Ryssa laughing and playing in the back garden. The bleeding in his nose worsened as did the voices that shouted even louder than before.
Tears filled his eyes. He wanted to scream from it all, and when Acheron fell and scraped their knees, Styxx couldn't take it anymore. He hit the ground, clutching his leg and crying out as his pain finally overwhelmed him completely.
Please, gods, please just let me die....
Acheron came running to his side. "Styxx? Are you all right?"
No. I live in a state of constant physical pain no one understands or has mercy for. And he was tired of it. Dear gods, could he not have one single hour where something didn't hurt?
"Styxx?"
He couldn't respond to his brother, not while he ached so badly and in so many ways. Instead, he stared at the blood on Acheron's ravaged skin. He felt the same exact injury on his own knee and yet he knew that if he looked at his leg, he'd have no wound to explain the throbbing ache he felt there.
"Don't get hurt again, Acheron," Styxx finally breathed. "Please."
Acheron frowned as Ryssa came forward. She knelt on the ground by Styxx's side. "Why are you lying here?"
Styxx pushed himself up before she could mock his pain, too. "I fell."
She glanced around the path. "There's nothing for you to trip over. What? You saw Acheron fall and couldn't stand him getting five seconds more of attention than you?"
Styxx glared at her as more agony split his skull. "Yes, that's exactly what happened."
"Have you another headache?" Acheron asked.
Styxx nodded then winced.
Ryssa scoffed. "Father says you only pretend to have them to get out of your responsibilities."
He gestured toward his soiled chiton. "What of the blood that covers me?"
"You probably injured yourself for sympathy. I know you. You're not above doing anything for attention."
That was so him ... never.
Unable to deal with her criticism, Styxx cradled his aching skull in the palm of his right hand and continued on to his room with his valet and guard trailing in his wake.
Acheron started to follow after him, but Ryssa held him back.
"Let him go, Acheron. He'll just get you into trouble like he always does. Come. Let us play more."
Hours later, Styxx lay in bed, trying his best not to move or breathe. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand in his hair. He knew instantly who it was. Only one person was that kind or caring where he was concerned.
"Acheron?" he whispered.