I wake up in my bedroom, Aquilo is holding my shoulders tightly, and for a split second, he looks like a ghost; his face is deathly pale, and he has a look of desperation on his face. But that look only lasts for a moment before being replaced by relief. 

“Your Majesty!” he says, “You’ve finally woken up! For a moment I thought….” his expression turns dark once again as he trails off. 

I sit there, silent, and try to shake calm the troubled waves of past emotions coursing through me. At some point, I had become so immersed in my dreams of the past that every emotion became real, completely drowning out my present self in the sea of memories.

“I’m alright now, Aquilo," I say, “I was just dreaming of the past.”

He studies me for a moment, before seemingly accepting my explanation. He lets go of my shoulders, but remains kneeling by my bed. He takes a deep breath.

“Your Majesty, I know you are feeling unwell, but today the Selection Ceremony will commence… Please allow me to help you prepare.”

Needles of anxiety prick my heart, but I can only allow him to help me dress. After getting ready, we begin the dreaded journey to the Colosseum.

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When we arrive, Aquilo guides me to a private viewing box. The view of the battleground here can only be described as excellent; no matter where the combatants will be, they will always be within my view. Needles of anxiety tear through me once again as I watch my two sons approach each other, swords in hand.

Aquilo had been right to be concerned about sending Prince Seth to the border; after a year, he had returned to the capital city with an army of Northern soldiers backing him and demanded that he be made heir to the throne. The traditionalist faction of nobles was outraged by this and quickly rallied their private armies to defend Prince Siris. I, of course, supported him as well with the full power of the military. The capital city soon turned into a bloody battlefield, and countless lives were lost on both sides. The fighting raged for months until one night, Seth sent a messenger calling for a Selection ceremony to be held. He spread the news of this throughout the citizenry, who were desperate for a quick resolution to this conflict. So, under threat from Prince Seth’s army and a possible revolt, Siris had no choice but to accept his challenge.

The sound of the ceremonial horn resounds through the air like a raven's cry, signaling that the final battle has begun. A sea of emotions floods through me, anger, sadness, fear, but the strongest one of all is regret. I regret sending my son to the North, I regret his birth, but most of all, I regret ever entering the palace.

The sound of blades clashing rings throughout the arena, my youngest son has charged at his brother head-on. Siris can only block his brother's blade, unable to dodge quickly enough on account of his disabled right leg. Seth swings his sword at his brother once again, and this time, manages to knock Siris back half a step. I lean forward to the edge of my seat, and I can feel icy shards of fear coursing through my veins. From the moment Seth called for a selection to be held, I knew Siris had no chance of winning. He was the perfect candidate for the throne, studious, temperate, and diplomatic, but he had always lacked skill in hand-to-hand combat, as his movements were limited by his right leg. I tried to convince him to decline the duel, but despite my pleas, he insisted on accepting.

“Father” he had said, his eyes appearing like a serene pool of water as he spoke, “Our citizens have suffered greatly due to the conflict between me and my brother, and as your son and heir, I cannot back down from a chance to end this without further bloodshed.” I wanted to retort, but as I saw him standing before me, looking as steady as the stars hanging in the sky, I was unable to say anything more.

With a dreadful sound of screeching metal, Siris’ sword is knocked from his hands, and he is left standing there, defenseless. But he does not fall, or cry, or beg for mercy. He simply looks at brother, as calm as a winter forest blanketed by snow and says “Very good, Seth. I’m sure our father will be proud of you this time.” I can see a flicker of hatred flash across Seth’s eyes, and without wasting another moment, he ends his brother's life, running his word straight through his heart.

The crowd erupts into frenzied cheers, but I can barely hear them over the sound of blood rushing through my head. I expected this outcome, but I still feel as though my soul is being shredded to pieces, and that those pieces have been tossed into the fires of hell. I fall out of my chair onto the ground, and Aquilo rushes to my side. He doesn’t say anything, only wrapping his arms around me as anguished sobs rip through my body like demons.