Prince Solas slept peacefully in his room in the castle of Rimbdon, but his sleep was soon disturbed by someone violently shaking him awake. At first, the prince didn't want to respond. Without opening his eyes, he muttered at whoever was shaking him, "Leave me alone."
But a gruff voice replied, in a whisper so urgent it made the sleep leave Solas's body:
"You must get up, Prince Solas," the voice said. "The castle is being attacked right now."
Solas sat up at once, blinking rapidly to clear the remaining sleep from his eyes. He looked at the owner of the voice, an old man who was shaking as he tried to fit on an armor that he probably hadn't worn in years. His hands trembled as he tried to tie it at the sides.
"What's going on, Eliot?" Prince Solas asked, getting off the bed. "How are we being attacked?"
"I don't know, my lord," Eliot replied in that same terse voice. "They sprung up on us. But the strongest men are putting on their armor as I speak and getting ready to fight, which is why you must go to the basement and hide."
"Hide?" Solas repeated, confused.
Prince Solas was the seventh son of the King of Rimbdon, and in a line of very successful sons, Solas was somehow the weakest.
He couldn't conjure up magic. He couldn't fight with the sword. He had no brains for tactical formations. There was nothing he could do to contribute to the kingdom's combat.
The royal family, and even the entire kingdom, had hoped for a while that he would develop some talent and be useful to them. But after many years of nothing, they had finally come to accept Solas for what he was: powerless and useless.
Many of them were grateful that he wasn't the heir to the throne, and he wasn't even close.
Now the castle was being attacked, and while mages, knights, strong servants, and his own brothers rushed forward to defend their castle and prevent it from being taken over, Solas was now heading down to the basement where the women and children fearfully hid.
His legs dragged across the floors as he walked, his tail tucked between his legs in shame. He felt totally useless.
He pushed the door open, and it creaked as it swung to reveal two huddled groups, one for women and one for the children.
Prince Solas stepped in. They all eyed him as he entered, judging him silently for cowering with them here when he should be on the battlefield. Some of the kids had even wanted to fight but were forced to come here, talk less of an adult who was legally required to fight.
Solas ignored their stares and harsh looks. He found a small seat in a corner where no one was, and he sat there, staying quiet to preserve what was left of his dignity.
As he sat, he thought about his life, how he had always been mocked by his peers, looked down on by his family, and pitied by the townsfolk. He had lived a truly miserable life, and it was because he was powerless.
He wished his life was different. He wished he had powers so he could be useful, and help his castle by defending them.
Above them, the sounds of battle: swords and shields clashing, footsteps thudding, men grunting and screaming in pain.
The sounds continued to grow closer and closer until, at some point, Solas suddenly felt like he could hear only silence.
The silence was too pronounced. Too strange. He stood up and looked around apprehensively.
Then, just as quickly as the silence came, it was broken by a loud Bam!, as the door to the basement was kicked open and flew off the hinges, landing on the floor.
Four mages entered the room. Their eye slits glowed purple, and they stepped in as if delighted to see such a gift before them.
They immediately raised their hands toward the kids, but Solas jumped in front of them without thinking.
"Leave them alone," he said through gritted teeth, trying to appear more fierce than he was.
But the mages saw through his act, and they laughed. One of them simply stepped in front of him and grinned, showing his sharp teeth.
"Shut up, boy," he said as he plunged his sword into Solas's stomach.
Solas cried out as the metal cut through his intestines like they were made of soft rubber. The pain was unbearable. He felt like his insides were burning, and each breath he took made it worse.
After a while, he dropped to his knees, bleeding from both the sword wound and his mouth.
Then the pain slowly faded away as he felt his consciousness leave, and darkness consumed him slowly.
Around him, the women and children were crying, and this made Solas sadder than anything, the fact that he was dying a useless person. He couldn't protect them. Not even for a while.
If I get another chance, he thought bitterly, I swear I'm not going to be useless. I'll be powerful, and I'll protect the people I love.
With that final thought, he closed his eyes and lay on the floor as the darkness took him completely.
He was dead.
At least, that was what Solas expected.
However, instead of eternal slumber, a green light blinked once… then twice…
Then it stayed on.
And Solas faintly heard a chime.