Forbidden Freedom

For as long as he can remember, Prince Paxton had been abused by his father. After enduring it for many years, Paxton is finally ready to leave his castle behind.

Forbidden Freedom

 

 Paxton made his way into his father’s study, his fingers shaking ever so slightly with anxiety.   The last time his father, King Clifton, had called him in here to speak alone, it had not ended well.

            “Good morning Paxton. I hope you had a good night’s rest, what with all that arguing last night.” Paxton nodded his head nervously.  “Well, I’m sure you’ve realized we still need to talk about the plan for when you are king.  It became clear to me last night that you and I do not see eye to eye on a major issue. Right?”  Paxton nodded cautiously, praying that this was the answer his father wanted.

            “Yes.”  He hoped he wasn’t wrong; his father got mad when he was wrong.  When King Clifton gets mad, he gets scary.

            “Sit,” the king sneered.  “I called you here to explain what these Mages really are and what they really do.  I am not sure where you are learning about those filthy people but I am certain that it is unreliable information.” It seemed that the king never blinked, his eyes too busy staring at Paxton like a piece of meat to move.  “Mages have killed so many of our people.  Each day I am told of a handful of new murders of our people.  Paxton, you have to understand that they are evil.” Paxton knew that his father did not know the entire story.  Paxton spent each day in the kitchen hearing about the horrific actions of the Royal Guard from the staff.  The Mages never attacked unprovoked. For years, their people had been hunted for being different.  The human citizens were afraid of the harm that magic could do.
            “If we kill them, we are no more evil than they are.”  Those dangerous words had just slipped out of Paxton’s mouth.  His heart dropped as he waited for his father to explode like he always did.  
            “You fool,” he spat, his face increasing in redness by the second, “we are killing them to stop the evil.  That makes us good.”
            “Father, I’m sure they are not evil killers.  They have been provoked in some way by your guards.  They just want to li-”  Paxton was interrupted by the sudden colliding of a worn hand to his face. He ducked his head down and stopped all movement.  “I’m sorry father.”
            “Bullshit.  Paxton, once you are king, you will continue in my efforts to eradicate those disgusting b******s.  You have to understand that the Guards are simply trying to protect our people. Now leave,” he commanded.  Paxton got up from his chair, head still down.  He walked as fast as he could down the corridor making sure no one caught a glimpse of the crimson handprint on his face.

 ‘Father would kill me if anyone found out what he was doing,’  Paxton thought. He stared at the baseboards on the right side of the corridor, searching for the small marking he had made with ink a few weeks ago.  It was the easiest way to identify his room while still keeping his face mostly hidden.  Once Paxton had reached it, he clicked the cool iron door handle and slammed the heavy wooden door behind him.  Once he was inside, Paxton allowed the tears to trickle down his hot cheeks, feeling the king’s handprint searing on his skin. This wasn’t the worst it had been.  Two months ago, Paxton had to stay in bed for a week waiting for his bruises to fade.  His mother, Queen Adelaide, had been the only one allowed to see the prince.  The family only had few servants, most in the kitchen. She knew what his father did to him but she never stopped it or even tried to help.  She simply cleaned up the mess her husband left behind.  This afternoon, she never stopped to check on her broken son.
           
            At half past six, there was a gentle knock at Paxton’s door.
            “Paxton,” his mother cooed.  “Dinner time.”
            “I’ll be down in just a moment.”  He heard the click of her high heels get softer and softer as she sauntered towards the dining hall.  Paxton picked himself up off of the ground and put on his red dress tunic.  Tonight was dinner with all of the Royal Guards who were sent out to kill innocent mages each day.  Paxton made his way toward an ornate mirror and examined his cheek.  Most of the redness was gone and knowing the people in this castle, it would most likely be dismissed as blushing.  He took a deep breath when he entered the hall, avoiding the beady eyes of the people sat around the table.  Paxton took his seat at the end of the table next to his father and across from his mother.  There was space for two seats between them and the guards.  This was King Clifton trying to show his family was untouchable.  It appeared Paxton was a little late as the other diners had already begun to eat the simple beef and potatoes the cooks had prepared.  Dinner was horrendously quiet. Paxton’s father glared at him, making his stomach turn. He pushed his dinner around the plate, not hungry at all. 
            “What’s wrong son, is the food not good enough?”  Paxton’s father chuckled, his laugh booming through the quiet hall.
            “Just not that hungry,” Paxton mumbled.  He proceeded to shove a spoonful of the soft potatoes into his mouth.  Paxton had to force them down his throat and into his knotted stomach.  The King smiled at his son, his mouth seeming friendly but his eyes still flickered with rage.  Paxton contorted his face into the fakest smile I could muster.  “This is good,” he attempted to say with a mouthful of potatoes.  His father’s grin disappeared and he glared at Paxton with his lips curled like an angry dog’s.

 All the chatter in the hall ceased.  After several more minutes of horribly awkward silence, they all finished the small helpings of cherry pie the servants had brought out.  Clifton excused their guests and Adelaide but asked Paxton to stay behind.  As they all filtered out, Paxton watched his toes and bit his lip while waiting for his father to speak.
            “I know you have heard about magic from people other than myself.  I’m worried that maybe you’ve heard from a bias source.”  The King had done his best to sound calm but Paxton could still hear the fury behind his words.
            “Father, I swear I’ve only heard things around the castle.  I’ve never even been outside these walls,” he pleaded.  Sadly no amount of pleading will protect Paxton from him.
            “Oh, I’m supposed to believe that?” he chuckles. He rose from the mahogany chair and paced by the corner of the table. “I cannot believe that you would lie to your father.   There have been hours over these past months where nobody knows where you are.”
            “I was in my room.  I was hiding so nobody saw what you’d do-” Paxton was cut off by his father’s hands shoving him backward, sending the chair and his frail body to the floor.
            “I can’t believe you expect me to believe that!  No one in this castle had anything to do with those Mages! You were outside of the castle conspiring with those radical magicians,” he screamed.  “I can't believe my own son would betray his kingdom, his family like this. ” 

Paxton felt a hot tear trickle down his cheek.  His father moves overtop Paxton’s body and kicks his ribs.  He winces at the contact but he’s careful not to react too much.  The King never liked it when he cried out. 

“Get up Paxton,” Paxton’s father spits. Paxton pulls his legs to his chest and pushes off the seat of the chair. Once his body is on the floor, Paxton sits on his knees and pushes himself up until he’s standing.  He stares down the intricate tiles but he feels his father's icy hot stare on his face.  Paxton’s see his father’s hand grab a knife from the table and tears start raining down his cheeks. 

“I don’t want to do this son. I don’t want to, but I must.  Traitors have to learn their lesson.”  Clifton grabbed his son’s arm so forcefully it felt like he might just tear it off. At first, it simply felt like immense pressure being put on Paxton’s arm.  Then he saw the blood.  He watched in horror as his father began to carve something into Paxton’s flesh. The agony overtook him and soon he became numb to the world around him.  Paxton cried out but that only made the king dig deeper. He screamed traitor over and over again in an endless, painful symphony. 

When he was finished, he tossed the knife to the side and looked into his son’s panicked eyes. “I’m sorry son.” 

He turned and left Paxton sobbing in the great hall alone.  He dropped to the floor, clutching his arm.  The prince felt rage building up inside his chest as he lay there, bleeding on the cool tile.  This was the furthest his father had ever gone.  Paxton had only been left with bruises and scrapes from his father’s attacks.  Paxton has been building a plan to run far away ever since the king first hit him a year ago.  Until this moment, it had been nothing but a mere fantasy but now Paxton could feel it in his bones.  This had to be made real if he wanted to live for another year.

 

 

When Paxton reached his bedroom, he began to plan his escape.  He decided that it would be best if he escaped during dinner, while everyone was at the table.  There would only be guards at the front gates because the rest would be eating with his father.  Now, he had to make sure that he was allowed to take dinner in his room that evening.  His only two options were to fake sickness or get a great beating by his father in the afternoon.  It would be hard to fake illness, his mother would certainly bring in a doctor to confirm that he was really sick.  The second option was hardly a real option.  If Paxton let the king beat him half to death, then he would be in no shape to scale the wall.  If he decided to just stay in the room, someone would be sent to fetch him and they’d discover him trying to escape. 

“F**k,” Paxton thought, “is there really no way out?  Is this the fate I’m destined to have?  No, no it can’t be.  I can’t sit back and let my father rule my life and I can’t sit back and let him kill me.  I need to try.  I need to take a chance.”  Paxton decided he would tell his mother he had a terrible migraine and needed bed rest.  He would skip dinner and sneak out while the king and plenty of guards were eating.  There would only be guards near the gates of the wall during dinner so Paxton could scale it and escape. The only thing left to do was gather supplies for his first weeks outside the castle.  Surely Paxton would find someone to take him in, especially if he brought extra gold from the Ausen Royal Vault.  He would need food for the first few days.  The nearest peasant town was at least ninety miles away from the castle.  There, Paxton would be able to find a small market to gather more food before carrying on.  ‘I should go through at least three towns before I settle down.  Then I’ll be far away and Father won’t be able to hurt me any longer,’ Paxton decided.

That night at half past two, Paxton snuck out of his bedroom.  He began to make his way down to the cellar where the Royal Family kept an emergency stock of food.  Being up this late wasn’t unusual, Paxton rarely slept ever since his father the abuse began.  In the hall, he kept to the outside of the old wooden floor to avoid it creaking and alerting other residents of Ausen Castle of his movements.  Guards were stationed at major staircases which meant he had to avoid them.  Paxton was sure that if his father caught him now, he would never leave this castle alive.  Paxton was relieved once he reaches the door to the cellar because the staircase was made of stone and not wood.  This meant he could go as quickly as he wanted.  It wasn’t safe to be out of his quarters for long.  In the cellar, Paxton found potatoes and lots of wine.  He was shocked.

‘Last time I was down here, there was jerky.  I can’t hike for weeks on only potatoes,’ he thought.  Paxton began to scour the entire cellar searching for something, anything that would provide him sustenance.  It seemed that the cellar was only used to store wine, most of it made by the king years ago.  ‘I thought that this was the emergency supply of food! Why the hell is it just wine and potatoes!’  Finally, after an hour of turning over barrels of wine, he found one satchel of jerky.  Once he found a sack for the potatoes, Paxton raced upstairs as fast as he could.  ‘I can’t let Father find me,’ he recited in his head, ‘I can’t let Father find me.’  Halfway down the hallway to his bedroom, he heard footsteps.  His heart stopped.  He was dead, this was it.  He quickly pressed his back against the wall behind him and held his breath.  The corridor was nearly black; the only amount of light was from a dying candle near the entrance to the hall that led to King Clifton and Queen Adelaide’s quarters.  After a minute of listening, Paxton realized the footsteps were not coming toward him.  To make sure he didn’t run into whoever that was, he waited.  Once it was safe, Paxton tiptoed down the hallway, clutching his bag of potatoes and jerky. When he reached the iron door to his quarters, he carefully turned the handle.  Laying on his bed, the tired prince sighed.  He looks down at his arm, the wound still fresh.  Cool tears fall on his hot cheeks.  Staring down at the word and seeing it stare back at him broke Paxton’s heart. His father had hit him, kicked him, shoved him, scratched him, and yelled at him but this was the first time the King had used a weapon other than himself.  Slowly, the prince’s eyes closed, locking away the tears so he could rest.

“Prince Paxton!  It is half past ten.  Queen Adelaide expected you for tea at ten o’clock sharp,” the guard assigned to Paxton shouted.

“Shi- um, tell her I’ll be down soon.” The guard began to leave the room.  “And sorry!” The door slammed behind him.  Paxton’s heart pounded.  Even though he hadn’t been late for a meeting with his father, the King was sure to give him hell for this.  Paxton threw on the same white shirt and tunic he wore the evening before and raced out the door.

“I am so sorry Mother, I couldn’t fall asleep last night and then I slept in and I feel awf-”  He was cut off by his mother’s soft voice.

“Paxy, don’t you worry.  It’s important that you get enough rest.  And now, the tea has had enough time to cool.  I know how you hate burning your tongue.”  Queen Adelaide’s demeanor was the opposite of her husband’s.  She was sweet and gentle.  She rarely got upset and she loved Paxton with all of her heart.  Watching Clifton hurt her baby tore her apart. 

“Thanks Mum, you’re the greatest. I love you.”

“I know, I know.  Now start eating!  The kitchen staff has prepared a beautiful meal for us.  There are even poppy seed muffins.”

“I thought that we were no longer trading with Osvia. How did we get them?”

“Your father may have pulled a few strings with King Josef.”  Paxton’s stomach dropped.  Of course it was his father who got the ingredients for his favourite food.  “And I may have pulled a few strings with your father.” Paxton lowers his head.  His mother had only gotten the muffins as some sort of silent apology to her son.  She too was scared of the King, so scared that if she stood up for Paxton, she would be beaten as well.  “Honey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m just a little tired is all.  Shall we dig in? This looks absolutely delicious.”  They begin to fill their plates with fruit, pastries, sausage, and of course, poppy seed muffins.  For the next ten minutes, mother and son talked about the simple things.  They discussed the weather, how delicious the food was, and the winter ball though it was many months away.  Partway through discussing where in the castle the new painting should be hung, Paxton reached across the table for another muffin.  Adelaide’s eyes grew wide when she noticed the dark red stain on the cuff of her son’s shirt.

“Honey?” her voice shook.

“I know, one muffin is enough but they’re just delicious.”  Paxton was completely oblivious to his mother’s rising panic.

“What is on your shirt?” Paxton looked down at the front of his shirt.

“Did I spill somethi-”

“Your cuff.  Paxton, that is dark red. We do not have cherries in this castle nor any sort of juice that would make a stain like that.” Tears began to well in the prince’s eyes.  “Don’t tell me he did that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Paxton, honey,” she cried, “this isn’t your fault.”  The queen climbs out of her chair and wraps her arm around her fragile son. Paxton begins to sob into her arms. “Baby, this has never been your fault.  You have done nothing wrong.”

“B-but father called me a t-tr-traitor. He said I’m b-betraying my f-family, my kingdom-m, y-you.”

“Just because you believe that the mages shouldn’t be killed doesn’t mean you’re a traitor Paxy.  Don’t listen to your father.”

“M-mum?” Paxton’s face begins to turn red, his tears stop falling.

“Yes honey?”

“You always help clean up the messes he makes but why haven’t you stopped him from doing it?  You heal me but you don’t protect me.”

“Paxton, I’m afraid of him,” Adelaide stammers.

“So am I!  If he was doing all of this to you, I would step in even though he terrifies me.  So, why do you let him beat me half to death? Why do you let the abuse continue?” Paxton pushes away his mother’s arms and continues to scream.  “Hell, you’d probably let him kill me!”

“Paxton, I can explain.”

“I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuse.” Queen Adelaide falls to the floor and begins to break down.  Paxton feels his heart tell him to hug her but his brain told him to walk away, leave her like she leaves him.  That’s just what he did.  Adelaide tried to grab her son’s ankle, she tried to apologize but it was no use.  Paxton had finally let go of his mother.

 

When Paxton returned to his room and began to think, he realized that letting go of his mother was essential to his escape.  Ever since he was young, Paxton had such a deep love for his kind and caring mother.   During the many parties hosted by the royal family, the little prince clung to his mother’s side the entire evening.  It would have been impossible for him to leave Adelaide after seventeen years with no conflict.  His heart ached that the relationship between him and his mother had ended in such harsh words but this would make it easier for the both of them once Paxton was gone. 

 

That night, Paxton snuck into the Royal Vault and took as much gold as he could carry.  It was far less than he would have received had he stayed to accept his inheritance.  Up until this moment, Paxton felt like his plan to escape was just another fantasy.  As he stood in the hall of his great prison with an armful of gold, it finally felt real, he finally truly believed he would be free.  Upon hearing movement in the room next to him, Paxton rushed back to his quarters to avoid being caught. He soon realized that being discreet, quick, and trying to carry several pounds of gold was not working in his favour.  As best as he could, the prince snuck back into his bedroom where he collapsed on his bed.  The day had been long and exhausting but there was still work to do.  Paxton forced himself out of bed and pulled a box from underneath his bed.  Inside was all of the food he had taken from the cellar the night before.  Carefully, Paxton places each pouch of gold into the box and slid it back underneath his bed.  Paxton crawled back into bed and dozed off instantly.

 

The next day went by with little conflict.  The air during breakfast was thick with tension.  The King shot some nasty glares at his son, the Queen kept her eyes on her plate, and the prince stared blankly ahead to not provoke his father.  Paxton had gone outside that morning and wandered the forest to clear his head.  When he arrived back at his room, he found the box he was keeping under his bed lying open on the floor. 

‘F**k.  F**k, f**k, f**k.  Who found it?  Oh god, if my father sees this, I’m dead.  I am so f*****g dead.’ Thoughts were racing around in Paxton’s head.  A knock at the door threatened to stop his heart.

“Son, I need to speak to you.”  Clifton’s voice seemed soft, almost sorrowful.  Paxton’s heart rate began to increase despite this.  His father was always the same, this was no different.  After a few moments with no answer from his son, King Clifton slipped in.  His demeanor and posture gave the image that he was sad and calm, just like his voice had.  A flicker of hope, of belief in his father, flickered inside Paxton’s chest but he was quick to extinguish it.  He had been hurt too many times to believe his father could be anything but harsh.  “Sit down.”

“W-what’s the matter?”

“After breakfast, a maid informed your mother and me of a suspicious trunk underneath your bed.  Naturally, she and I were very concerned. I was afraid someone had been threatening you with letters or sending you disturbing items.  We had to investigate.”

“I’m so so-” Clifton was quick to hush his son.

“Were you going to leave?”

“Father, I can expla-”

 “Were you going to leave this castle?”  Hostility began to carve its way onto the King’s brow.  Terror was clawing its way up the Prince’s chest.

‘I was right, this will not end well.  It never ends well,’ Paxton thought. “Yes father.”  Paxton bowed his head and waited for the shouting or the hard blow to his face.

“I cannot believe this. Paxton, you are my son.  You are my flesh and blood.  I cannot believe you would desert me like this. I know we haven’t gotten along well, but I am still your father!”  Each bone inside Paxton’s body felt on fire, his father’s rising volume increasing the anxiety coursing through each and every vein.  “What’s worse is you would leave your poor mother!  She has never done anything wrong to you, anything!”

“I’m sorry father, I’m sorry!”

“We raised you, we gave you everything.  You meant everything to your mother and,” the king paused and Paxton thought for a moment that maybe his father loved him deep down, “ and you decide that you just want to pack up and leave it all behind.  I’m so disappointed in you.”  Prince Paxton tried to force words out of his mouth but it took everything within him to hold back the sobs.  “I do not want you to come to dinner and further upset your mother.  Your meal will be brought up to you.”  King Clifton rose from the bed and headed for the door.

“Okay Father.  I’m sorry, I truly am.”

“And Paxton?”

“Yes?”

“The gates will be unlocked until midnight.”  With that, the King was gone. 

 

Paxton wrestled with the final message his father had given him for hours.  He analyzed King Clifton’s tone and body language for any sign he was setting up a trap for his son.  The Prince could not seem to find any dishonesty in what his father had said.  In addition to the seemingly genuine words, his father had left everything Paxton had gathered for his escape.  In Paxton’s mind, there was absolutely no way his father was lying. 

 

Downstairs, King Clifton was briefing his guards about Paxton running away.

“When he comes downstairs, line up against the wall and do not move a muscle.  Do not make eye contact.  I’ll handle him.”

 

Paxton attached a strap to the small case to make carrying it through the forest far easier.  He tossed in one of his capes used during the winter for chilly nights and turned for the door.  The prince paused, his heart beginning to ache.  Despite all the horrors that he’d gone through in Castle Ausen, he had made so many wonderful memories.  Here he had ridden his first horse, here he had made friends from all across the globe, here he had grown up.  Paxton had so many fond memories of when he was younger and his father still cared for him.  A small tear trickled down his flaming cheeks.  Paxton simply shook off the feeling and headed down to the gates.   His father was waiting for him and the guards were lined up as instructed.  Paxton gulped and tried not to look into his father’s eyes.  His mother was nowhere to be seen,

‘Thank god,’ Paxton thought.  He couldn’t bear to see his mother now, not after the fight.  He knew she would have been crying and that he wouldn’t have been able to leave and abandon her.

“Son, I suppose this is your final chance.” Paxton furrowed his brow when his father said this.

“What?”  The prince didn’t know what his father meant, but he knew it wouldn’t be something good.

“Your final chance to choose your family over those f*****g mages,” Clifton spat.  He was no longer trying to hide his rage.  “To choose to be a king or a traitor.”

“Father, I’m not leaving to be with the mages.”  He knew speaking to his father about the abuse was a bad idea, but Paxton would be gone by sundown one way or another so what did it matter?  “I’m leaving because of you.  I am so sick of hiding from the-the monster of a father I have been cursed with!  I am sick of having to pretend everything’s alright when I am half dead.  I need to be free.”

“Is that how you feel?”  His father’s glare seared Paxton’s skin.  “Do you think discipline is torture?”

“No, you blind fool,” once the words were out of his mouth, the prince knew that this was the last time he would ever speak to his father, “you do not discipline me.  You abuse me.  You use the power you have as my father to make me feel awful for simply not agreeing with you.”  King Clifton’s body went rigid.  “I f*****g hate you, I have for years.”  The King bolted forward and slammed his son’s fragile body to the floor.

“I f*****g hate you too, son.   I have for 17 years and I will until the day I die.”  The king’s foot collided into Paxton’s soft brown curls over and over.  Paxton screamed and cried but the guards didn’t try to help or even move.  They simply watched their prince being beaten to death.  “You have been nothing but a burden to this family.” The King kicked his son’s stomach. “ You refuse to cooperate with me on ruling this kingdom.” With each new statement, the blows grew harder and harder. Clifton was now kicking Paxton in the chest.

“Father!” Paxton cried out as he heard a distinct snap in his chest. 
            “You are a disgrace to the entire kingdom.  You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t even deserve to live.”  The king reached behind him and took one of the clasps that held the gates closed.  He held the cool piece of metal and, without hesitation, brought it down onto Paxton’s skull.   Crimson blood began pouring from the wound instantly.  One of the guards stifled back a sob, this was the most horrific thing any of them had ever seen.  King Clifton threw the clasp onto the floor and stormed up the stairs.  On his way up, he met Adelaide who had heard her son’s screams.  Her cheeks were littered with tears.

“Paxy, oh honey.”  Once she reached her broken son, she bent over him unable to comprehend what was happening. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never let him do this again, never.  I love you honey, I really do.”

“Mum,” Paxton mumbled softly, “you don’t have to protect me any longer.”

“Nonsense!”  Adelaide’s face attempted a smile to reassure her son that everything would be alright. 

“Mum, I’m not oblivious.  I know how bad it was this time,” he choked.

“Honey no. Please, I love you too much.”

“I love you too Mum.  Know that this is what I wanted.”  Paxton cracked a miniature smile, his eyes filled with tears.

“Paxton, we can fix this!”  The Queen was no longer able to hold in her worry.  “I know you don’t truly want to perish.”

“You’re right.  I simply want to be free.”  The prince rolled his head until he was staring up at the ceiling.  “As long as I live in this castle with him, I will never be free.”  Those were the prince’s final words.  Adelaide shook him, tried to wake him up, but he was gone.  The guards left their posts and took the queen back to her quarters.  Nobody could bear watching her heart break anymore. 

 

Paxton had lived a short life.  It had not been easy.  It had not been pleasant.  But unlike so many others, Paxton’s greatest wish had come true.  He was finally free.

Author's Note

This is the first short story I've written and I'm looking for any type of feedback I can get!