At long last the beating of the drums echoed into the evening sky. The ceremony had begun.

Alfred shifted forward in his seat as the high priest walked into view in the center of the stage, standing in front of a low stone bench with his back to the royal family. The pipil didn't mind the old man, but the lower ranking priests who formed a semicircle around their leader obstructed Alfred's view. As the son of the emperor, he had the right to view the harvest sacrifice just like anyone else. Frowning, he parted his lips to order the men to step aside but the booming voice of the high priest drowned out his own.

"These are the days of our great lament," the man yelled, causing even the youngest children in the crowd below to hold their tongues. "The land thirsts. A great plague has infected our crops."

Despite not being able to see much, Alfred felt the lull of the constant thuds of the drums thrumming in his veins. The beat slowly picked up momentum with each powerful word the high priest cried out. The ceremony was working its magic, enthralling him as well as every other nobleman and commoner in attendance. Alfred couldn't recall the last time he had been so focused.

"The gods are angry! They would finish the world today, the moment the sun sets. Do you wish for it, o people of the sun?"

Hisses and loud shouts came from the crowds, stamping their feet. The fire from the torches flickered across their faces, shadowing and highlighting their despair. Many of the women cried, neglecting to quieten the hollering infants in their arms.

"Rejoice, blessed ones! The gods do not abandon their chosen ones! All they require is a sacrifice to appease their temper, and the sun will smile upon us once more!"

And just like that, the public mood lightened with joy. Alfred himself could feel a bubble of excitement inflate within his chest as the people began to cheer. Their enthusiasm was infectious.

Unlike previous years when he would naively cling to every word the high priest issued, Alfred knew to detect and recognize the man's speech pattern and word usage. His tutor had been commissioned to study with him the art of charisma and manipulation in order to reach the same outstanding results as the priest did. He was a prince, after all. One day he would have to command armies and soothe his people's worries.

He didn't doubt the truth in the man's words, of course. The gods would punish them all severely if they were denied their sacrifice. That didn't mean that Alfred wasn't proud of his ability to recognize embellishment, though.

The priest must have given the signal for the sacrifice to be brought in as two armed men led a stranger onto the stage. Now that the ritual was officially about to commence, Alfred took advantage of the momentary confusion to stand up from his throne and edge closer towards the circle, standing solemnly beside the guards on the far left of the stage. If the men had any objection they didn't voice it.

It was then that Alfred took a good look at the sacrifice. The man had been cleaned thoroughly and swathed in ceremonial cotton. His hair and skin were fair enough, but his eyes were what really caught Alfred's attention.

Green, just like a jewel. Was that the reason why he had been selected? The man must have been a slave of some sort, as he surely wasn't a captive. Had he been purchased by the temple, or perhaps given as a donation? Who would give up such a pair of eyes so easily?

The more he looked at them, though, Alfred realized that there was somethingoff about the man. He didn't seem to be aware of his predicament as his face didn't betray any sign of fear or anxiety. In fact, his eyes was rather dull, expressionless. He reacted to physical prompts, walking to where he was pulled and falling to his knees in front of the stone altar when his shoulders were pushed.

He's drugged, Alfred realized with a start. It made sense, though. Bursts of powerful emotion had no place in a sacrificial ritual. The sacrifice wasn't supposed to display any human qualities- he was a means to an end. Sobbing, begging or even protest would disrupt the flow of things. Alfred had simply assumed that the sacrifices were willing.

The realization disturbed him. The high priest's sermon was drowned out by Alfred's own thoughts and the panic which all too easily replaced the excitement which had been building up in his chest only minutes before.

He was snapped back to the ceremony when the priest raised a knife over his head and called out to the heavens to accept this sacrifice. Alfred's eyes were glued to the blade as it was lowered closer to the ground, positioned strategically on the man's throat as the priest adjusted himself, hovering in back of the sacrifice for maximum effect. His free hand held the sacrifice by the chin, holding him in place.

The drums grew louder and louder, the sound no longer pleasant to Alfred's ears. He felt deafened by them, no longer empowered. He saw the priest bend down and whisper something in the sacrifice's ear, he saw the man swallow with the knife against his skin, he saw a ringlet of red stain the blade—

He heard his own voice call out a shrill 'stop!'. Alfred found himself standing in front of the priest, a hand clasped around his wrist and his gaze levelling his. The priest looked up in shock and dropped the knife, taking a step back from the sacrifice in confusion.

"What is it, my prince?" he inclined his head, his lips curled in a disapproving frown. Even without looking, Alfred was sure that his family wore some variation of incredulousness on their faces. The drums had stopped their beating and the silence which enveloped him felt so much louder. Or maybe it was his own heartbeat?

"This man's blood shall not be spilled on the altar tonight, holy one," Alfred announced, keeping his voice steady and firm. He didn't look down at the man, but he could feel his intense green eyes on him. "That is not his fate."

The frown didn't disappear from the priest's face. "You are mistaken, your highness," he said softly, gesturing down at the sacrifice. "I have seen his fate in the stars. Without his blood, your people will starve."

Alfred could feel his conviction waiver. What if it was true, what if this man really was meant to be killed that night? Would he risk single handedly bringing ruin upon his people's heads? Would he have their blood on his hands?

He looked down and saw that indeed, those green eyes were looking straight up at him. He held his breath and felt his heart skip a beat.

Surely the gods wouldn't place such a beauty on earth only to be reaped in its prime?

"Then you have seen wrongly," Alfred decreed, folding his arms across his chest in finality. He turned to his side to meet the emperor's eyes. "Father, do you agree with me on this?"

The old man studied his face for a long time. He must have decided that his son's resolve was strong, in the end, for he nodded his head slowly and called out to the priest to heed his words.

"This man shall not be sacrificed tonight, old friend," he ruled. "The ceremony will be rescheduled and doubled. That should appease the gods, should it not?"

The high priest knew when he was outnumbered. "Very well," he bowed low to the emperor, and then to Alfred. "I have been proven wrong. Let it be as His Highness commands!" he cried out to the people, who cried out their assent before slowly dispersing to their respective homes.

Alfred felt the heady sense of satisfaction course through his veins. He had won. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face the cluster of guards which now surrounded the man who's life he had just spared. The buzzed around him, pulling him to his feet.

"What should we do with him, your highness?" one of the men asked, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and averting his eyes from directly meeting Alfred's. "Will he be sold back to his previous owner, or should we cast him out on the streets?"

Alfred frowned. He hadn't thought that far ahead when he had stepped in to stop the sacrifice from being taken place.

One look at his eyes quickly settled it, though. "Bring him back to the palace," he said slowly, making sure that his order would be clearly understood. "I'm sure the staff will find something for him to do."

He watched as the men bowed and led the man away. When he was absolutely certain that nobody was looking, Alfred allowed himself to lean back against the stone steps and crumple to the ground.

What had he gotten himself into?

So this was originally supposed to be a drabble for the 365daysofusuk tumblr, but I couldn't keep it under 1000 words :/ What I did was take a post from an Aztec au roleplay I wrote back in 2011 and continue the opening scene from purely Alfred's perspective. The end result was a better written (if I do say so myself) and a bit different scene, but the general plot points remained the same. If I ever do continue this, though, I'd have to veer off from the original roleplay to keep it my own work.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed :) I'd love to hear your impression, dear reader!