fiction, writing

Beginning of Fate

It was a few days after I had awoken from my comatose state. I was walking the halls of the Palace trying to refamiliarize myself with the ins and outs when I saw him. He was only about the age of ten at the time.

“Stop being so careless slave!” the brat of a Prince was forcing his personal guard to whip the young man to oblivion. The flogging was so hard and forceful that bits of flesh and blood littered the ground as if it were a scene of someone being killed. It turned my stomach to see someone being treated with such violence.

“W…wait! Leave him alone!” I exclaimed. It was the first words I had actually spoken since I had come back to the “life” as my father described it. Even from that young of an age, I felt as if any injustice should be dealt with. No one should live a life in fear or anguish.

“Jafar? You speak to me like this? I am your prince and you are meant to serve me as Vizier one day,” the pompous prince glared. “Shall I teach you a lesson as well?”

“I…um…” Since I was still so young and naïve I had not a clue what to say to Prince Haroun of Anfanka?

“What is going on here?” My father’s voice rang from behind me. “Jafar, what have you done to disturb the Prince?”

“F…father… why…. Is he hitting this boy?” I asked timidly. I feared my father just as much as I feared the Prince and the Sultan. I was a coward. A stain on the ideals of a future Vizier.

“Son, this boy has no rights. He is but a lowly slave boy of our Palace.”

“Then… why…why can he not… be my slave? I do not like how he is being treated,” I begged. I doubted that I would be able to get my way but something changed in my father’s eyes.“That is the best idea that has come out of your mouth in your entire life. Very well, I will ask permission from the Sultan and allow this boy to be yours. This will teach you what it is like to own slaves.”

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