For as long as I can remember hearing, I've heard the sound of my fathers voice. It was deep, a cadence I could only dream of and envy. 

He stood addressing a crowd of reporters, the king of The Great Solvent Nation. 

War was a fear in everyone's minds, and as the king, it was up to Aldin Novaksie to set their hearts at ease. 

He spoke of truce, a treaty set to unite Solvent with their long time enemy Darkspire. Said to be the home of savage men who knew nothing but to kill and conquer, Darkspire was the kind of name people had nightmares about at the mere mention. 

“Colden, come forth.” My father had turned, addressing me from behind the curtains on the grand stage. 

I approached slowly, cautious of every step in the hopes of not making a fool of myself. Public speaking was a special dread of mine. 

“For those who don't know, this is my son, Crown Prince Colden Blakeswell Novaksie. He will be informing you of the progress in our negotiations between Solvent and Darkspire.”

I stepped into the spotlight, cheers and applause bellying the importance I was supposed to exude. 

“Greetings to the people of Solvent. I come to you now because the leader of Darkspire has offered a truce for peace.” My voice was steady, despite the tremble in my hand. I clutched it in the other behind my back, standing tall with my chest puffed out like a good little princeling. 

“In our continued meetings with the heads of Darkspire, we have decided on….” I paused, gathering both breath and courage to continue with the plan. My father was next to me, fully prepared to end whatever games I might try to play. 

But I was in it to win.

This was war after all. 

“A Dynastic Marriage between me and General Bracken Stormrider. I am to be sold to savage men in exchange for that peaceful ignorance you all so crave.” My words rang through the room, silencing the clamoring reporters for all of five seconds – a personal best if I do say so myself. 

My father clenched his fist at his side, eyes blazing beneath that golden crown that shone in the light beaming down on us. 

The silence that felt louder than their questions ceased when a man with a heavy microphone pushed his way forward. 

“Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?” It was a sanitized voice meant to ask questions that would cut deep and drag the truth into the light. 

“Exactly as I've said. My freedom is the cost of this nation's peace and my father agreed without a second thought to the trade.” I smiled, the tremble in my arm still as present as before. 

“I just thought you'd want to know what that peace came at the cost of. A human soul for your clean water and manufactured processed foods.” 

The ensuing chaos was well worth the public appearance. People surged forward like a crowd of hungry lions, each trying to get in the next question with rabid interest. 

The funny thing about telling people the horrible truth was that they always wanted to know more. Why did you say that? What had caused you to speak out to begin with? What was planned in regards to your imminent demise? 

Harsh truths could make great news. 

“That’s all I have to say. Enjoy your perfect peace and feel free to forget about me, the supposedly loved prince that was sacrificed for it.” I smiled brightly at the clamoring masses, taking a deep breath through my nose as I prepared for what would come next. My father would want to punish me after this debacle. 

A loud bang rang out, fire spitting and smoke curling around a corner of the room. My head flew back as something felt like it shattered my skull. 

My whole body went limp piece by piece, crumbling to the floor in a pool of blood. The room erupted in screams as my vision began to darken at the edges. My mother rushed on stage from the back, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she yelled something. Clutching me close to her chest as my life dripped out of my body. Eyelids grew heavy, the world fading in the failing light. 

That was the press conference that was meant to signal the end of the war. Instead, it was the end of my life. 

I, Crown Prince Colden Blakeswell Novaksie, heir to the throne of Solvent and betrothed to Bracken Stormrider of the Darkspire nation, took my last breath on the floor with reporters watching every last breath leave my dying body. 

My father watched my quick demise with angry eyes and a murderous intent. No doubt at me for allowing myself to die when I was meant to be sold. Bracken wouldn’t want a dead bride after all. 

Everything had led up to my final moment: The deal that sealed my fate without permission, my father shaking hands with the leader of a murderous nation and my mother hugging me goodbye without a single word of protest. She may have claimed to love me but it had only taken three necklaces inlaid with shiny gems to make her forget that love in the face of the greater good. There may have also been a bird with feathers in every color that made her love stutter. 

Mother loved shiny colorful things. Gems and feathers would have swayed her over a decision about her own life just as much as they had about mine. 

And so I died that day, war finally having a chance to break out against two nations of questionable morals and filled with pompous rich people trying to live in complete denial. 

They would have seen what I saw when the bullet pierced my skull. That corner with the hulking savage man dressed in a nice suit, hair hidden in a hood that connected to the back of his sleeves and covered every semblance of Darkspireian. I had seen him the moment I stepped foot on stage and knew instantly he was the one they’d sent for my life. 

The one that would assassinate me in front of the entire world. 

Exactly according to plan.