Author's Choice, Author's Choice, What the hell am I doing here?
He was just an ordinary, quiet boy from the orphanage. The woman who'd claimed him as her dear long lost son wasn't in her right mind after losing her child all those years ago, and she'd believed it. He'd believed it, and let himself be groomed as Daien's puppet king. His unstable mother and the silver-haired maiden were the only true allies he had.
The senate forced him to sign the blood pact, and he did it out of fear for his country. Into it he dragged Micaiah, the girl who believed in him and encouraged him to come forward, to claim his birthright. Every victory she secured for Daein ate away at him until he was finally forced to admit it. He asked her to kill him to break the pact and she refused, the goddess needs you to live, Pelleas, we need you.
When Ashera cast her judgment upon the world, they made their way to the tower to break the pact for good. In the marsh he finally confronted Izuka, the man responsible for the whole mess, and that was when everything came crashing down around him.
Oh, princeling boy, how completely I've fooled you... You are not King Ashnard's son.
Hours after the man met his deserved end, he sat alone in his tent. No, it can't be, it's not possible, no, it can't be, I'm King Ashnard's son, no, no, no. Tears blinded him but wouldn't give the relief of falling, his mother stood outside the tent trying to coax words from him, he felt sick and angry and stupid.
But most of all he felt like he wasn't even a person anymore. He'd been a lonely orphan who made a pact with the spirits in exchange for knowledge and power, and Izuka had used that mark to his own advantage. You were supposed to be my puppet, a weakling boy-king that I could control, giving me free reign! He'd been a tool. His mother...no, Lady Almedha, had been trying to protect a stranger. Micaiah, bless her foolish heart, had helped bring a fraud to the throne.
I don't deserve either of them. I don't deserve anyone's pity or loyalty.
He closed his eyes, gripping fistfuls of his robe and shuddering.
I don't belong here.
Everyone had a reason to be here. Country, loved ones waiting for them at home, personal glory or just the sake of the world. They were strong, they were trained or self-taught or useful in some other way.
But not him. Even with the mark of the spirits he was still average compared to Micaiah, Soren or any other magic user. He wasn't physically strong, he knew almost nothing about the world. He was just an ignorant, sheltered mama's boy whose mother wasn't even his own. I shouldn't be here. A puppet, a tool, a weak-willed naive child.
"What am I doing here?"
Lady Almedha still stood outside the tent, speaking in soft simple words. Just like she did in the beginning, only now he knew better. Go away, you're not my mother, I have no mother or father, I'm nothing to you. But she'd taken care of him, held him, stroked his face like a mother would. She's the only mother I've ever known.
"Pelleas, love, please," Lady Almedha's voice came from outside. "That awful man was lying, you are my son. My one and only son...please, darling. Talk to me." No, I'm not. That awful man was telling the truth, I'm nobody to you. Please, mother, for both our sakes.
He swallowed back the tears threatening to fall and hugged his knees to his chest.
Everyone is here for a purpose. So what is mine?
He knows he has to keep going. He can't turn back and run away now, much as he wants to. But he knows nothing awaits him at that tower, and nobody awaits him when this is over.
I'm nobody. Who are you?