He remembered when he'd been a small child and his father would take him to the ships to meet with their captains and owners, and he'd watch fishermen's children playing and laughing in the surf. He'd wanted to join them, but his father had refused.
It's common entertainment for common people. You are a prince. It's time you acted like one.
As the prince, according to his father, he wasn't to mix with them. The familiarity would cause them to see him as a lesser being. You must always hold yourself to a higher standard and conduct yourself with dignity. A king can only lead when others respect him.
And who could respect a king who'd been tied facedown over a punishment bench and violated? One who'd been bartered and sold, and ...
Branded.
Styxx cried out in anger. I'm done with this world. I've had enough.
That was what he'd come here to do. End it. He watched the surf below with a hungry gaze. One step. Then both he and Acheron would be free of this horror. Free to play in the waves and laugh like other people did ...
You're stronger than this!
Was he? He didn't feel strong. Not today. Today, he felt like the incompetent wretch they accused him of being. He felt used and powerless.
Shamed to the core of his blackened and burned-out soul.
One step ...
No more headaches or nosebleeds to suffer. No more gleeful humiliation shoved down his throat. No more hatred glaring at him from his mother's and sister's eyes. From the eyes of everyone who thought him a spoiled, beloved prince who had no care in the entire world.
I just want peace.
Determined to see it through, Styxx pushed himself to his feet. His horse, Troian, sniffed at his shoulder. Styxx sank his hand into the long, soft black mane then gently patted him. Troian had been his only real friend.
He hugged his horse tight. "It's all right, boy." He pulled the bridle off, knowing his horse would return to the stable without it, and this way he wouldn't have to fear Troian snagging it on something and getting hurt or trapped.
After nuzzling the horse's neck one last time, he stepped away. His heart pounded in a rhythm that matched his head as he watched the waves roll in. It would hurt when he hit the rocks, but hopefully it wouldn't last long.
With luck, he'd be dead before he hit them.
He dropped the bridle to the ground and turned around so that he could see the countryside he'd been raised and groomed to rule. It would survive without him. His people would probably be better off. At least they'd have a king now who was worthy of his crown.
One who hadn't been mocked and sold.
Swallowing the pain that never ceased, Styxx stepped back and fell into nothing.
Winds rushed over his falling body, whipping his hair and clothes. It seemed to take forever before he hit the water. He slammed into it so hard, he swore every bone in his body shattered. The waves rushed over him, dragging him down to the frigid depths of the vibrant blue sea. He swallowed and choked on the water as it violently invaded his body then sputtered and coughed.
Everything went black.
But after a brief period of nothing, he was still alive.
Even underwater ...
How? It couldn't be possible. It couldn't. Yet, the surf carried him to shore and threw him roughly against it.
Battered and bruised, he lay on the sand, aching and freezing.
And dismally alive.
I can't even die right. How pathetic am I?
As he lay there in more pain than he'd ever known, a raw, hateful truth slapped him in the face. The gods had no intention of sparing him even one heartbeat of the misery they'd damned him to. They wouldn't even allow him death as a way to escape it.
You sick bastards!