Days passed slowly in the castle, each one blending into the next. The abuse had become routine, led by my father's wives and sons. My mother endured their cruelty in silence, called every vile name imaginable, a filthy servant who had seduced the king and I, Tiny, the freak show, the son of a mistress. Their hatred for us burned hotter than the contempt they held for one another. Even Xanthe, once a friend, had turned away. She never looked at us, never spoke our names. We understood why. If our father had seen us together, the consequences would have been unspeakable.
The Battle of Successor loomed ever closer, a storm gathering on the horizon. My mother, strong, unshakable, had suddenly taken ill. She was pale, frail, wasting away before my eyes. I told myself it was nothing, just a passing fever. But then, a letter slipped under my door, signed with Xanthe's name.
"I think Rhea is showing the same symptoms my mother had before she died."
Panic seized me. My breath came in ragged gasps. Mother is going to die. The words repeated in my head like a curse. I remembered what Xanthe had once whispered in secret, that one of the sister-wives had poisoned her mother. If I told my father, perhaps he would intervene. Perhaps he could save her.
Desperation drove me to his chambers in the dead of night. When he opened the door, I pleaded with him, told him that Mother needed help, that I suspected one of his wives had poisoned her. He stared at me, his cold, dead eyes unreadable. Then, with a frown, he spoke.
"Do you have proof that she was poisoned? And even if I interfered, it would seem as though I was taking your side before the Battle of Successor."
A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. "The only way I'll help her is if you win."
I left his chambers without another word. My chest tightened with something beyond sadness, beyond grief. What had I expected? I had always known he cared nothing for us. And yet, the weight of his indifference crushed me.
If I wanted Mother to live, I had only one path forward. I would win the battle. And after that, I would purge them all, his sons, his wives. Every single one of them. They had done this to her.
Before bed, I visited her. Xanthe was at her side, tending to her with quiet care.
Mother smiled when she saw me, her warmth cutting through the darkness. I broke. The tears fell freely, I just wanted her to live. Xanthe reassured me, told me to rest, promised she would watch over her. I tried to sleep, but the night stretched long and restless.
And then, the day arrived.
The arena was a sea of colossals, gathered to witness the battle that would determine the next heir. My father sat high upon his throne, his wives beside him, including my mother. My heart leapt at the sight of her, color returned to her cheeks. Xanthe had kept her promise.
The commentator's voice rang out across the coliseum.
"Let the Battle of Successor commence!"