Providence

Alec – Greek; Protector of Men

Deva – Hindi; Celestial Spirit

Moana – Hawaiian; Ocean

Serena – Latin; Serene, Calm

Toan – Vietnamese; Safe, Secure

William – English; Protector

Part 3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One year later …

"Mother, why is this necessary?"

The older woman sighed with her back turned. She was a regal woman, living her entire life as a monarch, with all the benefits and responsibilities. And her son just couldn't seem to understand the obligations of being a Prince. He never did. Koen was young, and impulsive, and volatile. But the soft, maternal corner in her heart always seemed to find a drop of understanding where her son was concerned. While he may be a young adolescent with conquests and adventures under his belt, she saw his heart – no matter how hard he tried to hide it. And it was good.

She stood several inches shorter than her son, dressed in customary royal attire, jewels, and such. Her hair was high on her head with a crown gracing her curls. Deva was preparing for the Festival that her husband was throwing, a well-known occasion throughout the galaxy. Every member of the council from the five planets was welcome. It was a grand occasion, and Koen arguing about his responsibility regarding it was not easing her nerves.

She turned to face him, collecting garments in her daughter's richly decorated room to give to the servants for wash. "Son, you do not have a choice in the matter. You are expected to make an appearance for your father at the Autumn Festival. Its an important occasion, you know this. To commemorate Aevar's continued wealth and upcoming harvest. I'm sorry, but you must attend. Why must Isabel be so chaotic? You know she rivals you," Deva commented as she retrieved a dress from atop the canopy of the bed.

"At least she has a say in the direction of her life. I cannot believe that you deny me free will."

"I do not deny you anything, Koen." Her anger was starting to surface. She did love him, yes. But she also had no tolerance for delinquency or misbehavior. Especially today. "You are a Prince. You have been since your conception. And yet you fight ever aspect of it. When will you realize that you have been given little choice? There are some things you are obligated to do as the successor to the throne. Attending the Festival is one. Deal with it."

"I don't remember you or Father giving Isabel this same discussion when she refused Will's proposal."

She rolled her eyes as her son rehashed yet another old and tired argument. "Isabel not marrying William is quite different from you denying your place as Prince. They did not love each other; it would have been over before it began. I may be a Queen and set in my ways," she said as she leveled him with a look, daring him to argue the matter further. "But forcing a marriage is not something I have ever condoned. Stop trying to twist my words around and make me the enemy. I am on your side Koen."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "You and Father make me feel so … helpless. Like I'm already dead before I even get to live. Its not fair."

"I'm sorry being successor to the throne of an entire planet makes you feel that way. Surely your sister or even William would be happy to take your place, along with all the responsibility you so callously deny," her sarcasm dripped from her words.

"Mother, I understand the obligations. But how can you expect me to agree to them when I know nothing else? I know nothing outside of Aevar. I'm young, and I want to live my life. Why does that anger you?"

"Your curiosity does not anger me. It's your insubordination. Its not enough that you understand the expectations, you must accept them, Koen. You must. If you wish to be King one day, you must fall in line." Deva stopped suddenly in her task and turned toward him, looking intently. She said quietly, "Unless you do not wish to be King."

Their eyes met at her words.

Koen wasn't certain if he did want the responsibility that his father had. He could barely survive as a Prince, constantly under the public microscope. The whole idea of being King eluded him. He lived for the few hours he could find each week late at night to escape and spend time with his good friend Will. While they never admitted it to anyone within the palace, they frequently snuck out from the high barrier walls, through the palace sewers, and into the villages surrounding. They both dressed in disguise to hide their appearance, donning common clothing. The townspeople offered a refuge that Koen could never find within the confines of duty and speculation. Among the commoners he was a handsome, twenty-year-old man, not a Prince of a planet.

"I do not know if I want to be King. How am I to make that decision, when I have no point of comparison?"

There was a moment of silence as both stood their ground. This was the first time that Koen had actually spoken of or admitted to his aversion to the throne, which left Deva speechless. She had always expected her son to fall in line. It was never a question of if, but when.

"You are serious, aren't you? You actually consider denying the throne?" She spoke softly so as to not to attract an unwanted audience.

Koen kept his eyes fixed on his mother's unwavering as he said, "I have considered it, yes."

Her heart sank heavily in her chest. She knew without a doubt that her son, Koen, would make a fine King, possibly better than his father. He was strong willed, modest, charming, and, yes at times impulsive. But he always came out on top; he never lost at anything he attempted. She knew that the throne would be no different.

But it was becoming painfully clear that he had no desire to make his parents proud. In fact many of his actions, she knew, were only done to anger herself and her husband. The road he was paving for himself was a strenuous one, and she knew that her son's pride would never allow him to admit otherwise.

At length, she finally said, "You will attend tonight. And afterwards, we will talk. You, your father, and I will discuss your wishes. Not that either of us will be able to convince him to anything. But it is a start."

His shoulders sagged in relief. Koen had sincerely thought that she would never agree. He was beginning to see the benefits of being … honest. "Really?"

Deva nodded. "That is all I can offer you Koen. Do not ask for anything more from me. It will be a miracle if your father actually listens to you for five seconds. You know how he is."

"Yes," he said with disgust. His father may be the King of Aevar, but a sympathetic man he was not.

"Now don't start Koen. You know he loves you. He just … we just can't understand your aversion to the throne. It baffles both of us."

He bent to pick the last garment on the floor by his feet. He offered it to his mother with a sigh. "I know. I just wish we weren't so different. We have nothing in common."

She laughed lightly. "No, no. You are so very much alike. That is why you constantly disagree. Usually when a father and son argue, they have everything in common."

"Perhaps." Koen nodded with a companionable smile to ease his mother's mind. He did love her, more than he could possibly say. But his heart just couldn't accept this Destiny that he never asked for, never wanted. Why must he obey to a custom of life, a set plan of ideals and obligations? He wanted more.

Koen wanted his own life, one that he chose – without duty or responsibility tainting it.

She brought her right hand up to rub his shoulder soothingly. "Why don't you prepare for the Festival, you know which tunic to wear. The ship leaves in a few hours. We'll wait for you at the dock."

He nodded again and she went to leave her daughter's room. "Try and have fun tonight Koen. It is a happy occasion."

"I will."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night …

He exited the dock along side his sister Isabel with a pasted smile gracing his handsome features. The Aevarian subjects along with visitors from the other four planets were applauding the royal family's arrival to the Festival and King Eamon returned their enthusiasm with handshakes and greetings. How easily he fell into the role of leader; Koen could barely hold the eye roll that so desperately wanted to appear. Even his sister and mother were walking with authority and supremacy, greeting their admirers. Isabel accepted flowers from a small boy; Deva shook the hand of a family friend.

Koen walked with his head slightly bowed, not making eye contact with anyone, wanting to disappear. He didn't notice the swarm of young girls shouting his praises, attempting to get his attention. He was by far the most handsome young man in the kingdom, and every girl wanted to be near him. A handshake, a smile, any sign of greeting by him was a treasure.

But he never gave any. He knew of his status among the young women. Sometimes he enjoyed his popularity, but most days he detested it. These young women wanted him, and they didn't even know him. He wanted a challenge, someone … real.

Security directed them through the throng of people to the stage that had been erected some hundred feet away from their ship.

Eamon ascended, along with his family, and silenced the crowd by lifting his hand. He stood as a proud and strong leader, with graying hair and an intimidating stance. His plum purple cloak signified his role as King, the crown atop his head lined with Aevarian jewels and crystal. He was a figure to respect and admire, and his subjects in the crowd were quick to quiet and listen to their beloved ruler.

The four members of the royal family stood before their subjects, behind them members of the council seated who were dressed in royal cloaks – some hunter green from Nero, some cranberry red from Juniper, some golden yellow from Dagan, and four plum purple identical to Eamon's. The five Kings of the five planets of Rylan.

"Thank you. Thank you. Good people of Aevar, we celebrate another year of affluence and wealth. Because of your hard work and continued persistence, Rylan is still the most successful system in the galaxy. We welcome the leaders of the other four planets and ask them to celebrate with us." He quieted for a moment as a wave of applause was heard. "The harvest has come to be …"

Koen stood to the far right of his father, not really listening to the speech he was giving. Something of thanking his people for hard work and giving praise for their prosperity, he was sure. It was all the same to him, and eventually he ceased to hear his father's voice at all. His thoughts drifted to the day's previous activities. Target practice in the quad, casual talks with Will, flirting with the beautiful servant girl after midday's meal. What was her name? Sharon? Sera? Serena?

A slight commotion to his right caught his attention, and he turned his head toward the voices. Two men he didn't recognize were arguing, and the distance and the crowd drowned their words out. But he recognized their green cloaks. They were from the planet Nero, most likely servants or guards of one of the men seated behind him. Perhaps even of Cyrus himself.

He never paid much attention to political affairs, but he had been interested recently. His father had come to an agreement to end the long-standing animosity between Aevar and Nero. He knew some of the conflict all those years ago involving Cyrus, but not enough to understand it fully. Eamon had been gone for nearly a week to a conference, where he and Cyrus had come to an agreement. Cyrus had publicly apologized for his deceptions and had asked for forgiveness, a second chance, a fresh start for the system. And his father had accepted the apology.

Why, Koen didn't know. Ever since his childhood, he had been taught that Cyrus was a man to hate. His father had never tried to conceal his hatred for the ruler of the neighboring planet. Perhaps in his old age, Eamon wished to have peace in the system and on his planet. And so Cyrus and leaders of Nero, for the first time in many decades, had been invited to the Autumn Festival. It was a major development in Aevar's political history.

He wondered what the men were discussing and strained to hear. With a sigh of defeat, he turned his attention to the crowd in front of him. There was a myriad of brilliant color of cloaks and tunics and he realized there were several individuals donning the hunter green Nero cloaks. Close to thirty men were positioned sporadically throughout the people, all seemingly listening to the speech, their arms folded across their chest in an almost militaristic stance.

Interesting

, Koen thought. But he thought nothing else of it. They were most likely nervous about the Festival, keeping their guard up wondering if they were really welcome or not. He would most likely do the same thing.

He looked to his right again. The men had stopped arguing and were intently staring at something behind him. He slowly followed their line of sight, and was met with Cyrus's face. The older man was wrinkled, aged, but nonetheless able and agile, probably an ideal leader for a planet such as Nero. To rule a dune planet, one required strength, tenacity, and few scruples. Koen found himself immediately respecting the long-time foe of his family. Even though he held no kinship for him, a good ruler was a good ruler; even

he

had to admit that.

Eamon ended his speech, raising his arms above his head as the crowd hailed shouts of praises. The eruption was deafening, and it signaled Isabel and Koen's departure. They both turned to their right to exit the stage. Only a few steps more needed to be taken for their exit when he heard it. A whizzing, almost like a laser blast, shot close to his right ear flying past him. He turned in the direction, grasping tightly to Isabel's arm, holding her close by brotherly instinct.

At first he saw nothing. His eyes furiously searched for the shot, and then the Koen's eyes fell on his father. The crowd and the men who were previously seated were all a mass of color. All he could focus on was Eamon staggering, seemingly puzzled by the soft impact on his shoulder. He raised his left hand to feel his right shoulder, and he found the yellow dart resting just shy of his shoulder blade. One inch higher, and he would have been hit in the neck.

"Father!" Koen screamed, seeing the trembling form facing him. Eamon slumped to the floor and Deva was at his side screaming. Isabel tried to rush their parents, but Koen held firm not allowing her to be compromised as well. The crowd was a fury of feet and arms and shrieks of fear. Koen was paralyzed by panic for all of two seconds, and then his militaristic training kicked in. He thought furiously. Someone must have planned this …

The green cloaks.

He turned quickly to the right towards the swarming crowd. The thirty cloaks were now advancing, taking the security by storm. His eyes turned to his left, towards Cyrus. The ruler sat unmoving, a sadistic grin gracing his haggard face. Fury burned behind Koen's eyes. His hand instinctively reached for his laser gun in his belt. It took all of Koen's strength to not shoot Cyrus in that moment. He knew that if he did, he and Isabel would be dead in seconds.

Cyrus's men detained the rulers from the other three planets and members of Aevar's security were picked off by bullets or laser shots.

It was an attack. They were taking the Festival under disguise. He pushed Isabel further behind him for protection and pulled the laser gun from his belt. His mother and father were surrounded, Neroan guards advancing to the stage.

Cyrus stood slowly and went to Eamon, kneeling. Koen could see his mouth moving, silent words from one man to the other. Eamon's eyes grew large and than faded as the poison from the dart took its fatal assault. Deva was a stoic figure above her husband, tears streaming her face, until a guard came up from behind and slit her throat with his blade. She slumped forward lifelessly onto her husband's limp body.

Isabel wailed in anguish at the sight of their parents, knowing they were next. The breath rushed from his lungs, his vision blurring. This couldn't be happening. His father wanted peace, and now him and his wife were dead by the hands of the man standing before the crowd.

He gazed at the huddled mass of his parents, murdered by the man who Aevar once hated most. Cyrus grinned in victory. Aevarian civilians within the crowd were taken by bullets and lasers from the guards who had mysteriously sprouted from sniper positions lining the stage.

Will was suddenly at Koen's side urging them to the exit he had found. "Koen! Thank God. Come on, I've found a way out." Will grasped Isabel's arm and roughly shoved her through the small, dark door that had been hidden by the thick curtains. But Koen stood unmoving, and for the first time unwilling to cower away from responsibility. He couldn't just leave them. His father was dead. And that meant that, as the successor, he was King …

"KOEN!" He turned his head sharply as his friends voice finally cut through the haze of combat. "Come on!" With one last look over his shoulder, he silently said a prayer to Fate for his deceased parents. His stomach lurched as he entered the small door after Will. He would never see his mother's smile again. Or argue with his father. Or see them dance at their anniversary ball every year…

The small humid tunnel from the door lead downward, and soon the three found themselves in the forests of Aevar that lay thick with overgrown trees and shrubbery. They ran for their lives, their chest heaving and burning, Isabel sobbing her grief, Koen stoically silent.

He couldn't seem to get the image of Cyrus from his mind. The grin, the evil eyes, his very being had emitted a sense of victory. He had successfully killed King Eamon of Aevar – no easy task. The fury burned brighter, and Koen made a silent pledge between heavy breaths that he would make Cyrus pay, ten fold.

They ran and ran into the night away from the Festival. The stars above them gave them just enough light to see through the vines and foliage that hung low in the forest. Will directed them through the almost invisible paths that had been worn by local commoners. His training as a Second was coming forth, and he filled the position well.

An eternity seemed to pass until Will slowed and stopped, gasping for breath.

Koen bent, his hands going to his knees for support as his lungs demanding oxygen. He heard Isabel to his right and turned and offered his shoulder for her to cry on. Ever the dramatic, she was uncharacteristically quiet, most likely from the shock of the attack. They had witnessed their parents' deaths. Koen realized very quickly in that moment that it was very likely that neither of them would be the same again.

He held Isabel in his arms, and gazed at Will who looked much the same as Koen felt. Lost. Eamon had been like a father to Will for many years, and the loss was disturbingly parallel between the two. All three of them had lost people they loved tonight, and the mortality of the situation was setting in.

"What do we do now?"

Will looked at Koen, and then to the ground quietly searching for a solution. Quietly he answered, "We need to get off the planet. Knowing Cyrus, he'll comb Aevar looking for you two. As long as you're alive, you both could hold a claim to the throne. And we know that's what he wants. It's so obvious. He all but took it tonight." Koen nodded his agreement. Isabel sobbed quietly into the fabric of Koen's tunic, but said nothing, seemingly not hearing a word that was spoken.

They rested for several minutes, until they quietly returned to their escape. They walked through the night, stopping frequently when Will detected someone close, huddling in the shrubs near the ground for several minutes until Will deemed the coast clear. It wasn't until just before dawn that they had made it to a safehouse in the small village of Toan.