Flames of a King: Control the Flame or burn with it

By Mikayla Mendez

Weylon Blaise, a Prince without magical abilites. That is until someone, by the name of Baltic, says they can make non-magic users into magicians.

It changes everything though. Weylon finds himself struggling to gain control of his newfound

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mikayla Mendez
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781087986784

Mikayla Mendez

Mikayla Mendez is a part-time writer, living in the state of Tennessee with their husband. Since they were in middle school they have been writing stories, and it is their dream to one day become a true published author. Currently, they're going to school to get a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology before heading to get their Masters' after. Flames of a King is Mikayla's debut novel, a piece they hold extremely close to themselves, both because of the storyline and characters, but also because of who it is dedicated to.

Book preview

1

Chapter One

For lack of a better word, Weylon would consider his life mostly normal.

Well, as normal it could get for the crown Prince of a Kingdom. Through constant meetings, army plannings, gatherings where people of other Kingdom’s arrive in hopes that maybe their daughters—or sons—might strike Weylon’s interest in a marriage proposal. It’s obvious to the Prince that his parents are waiting anxiously for the day where he finally settles down, gets married and has a child.

And yet, everyone in the Kingdom of Ayelia was afraid of future heirs. They’re afraid of Weylon ruling this Kingdom for one reason and one reason alone.

In their world, most everyone is a bender. Someone who can control an element—water, earth, fire and air—those who are royalty are said to be stronger in their said ability. In their bending. They’ve been gifted by Gods with their strength, with their power. It’s why the people felt so protected from an oncoming attack should there be one because their Kings, Princes, even their Queens could defend them.

However, Crown Prince Weylon Blaise of Ayelia, has no bending whatsoever. Not even an ounce rests inside that Princely soul of his.

It’s heartbreaking. Overwhelming and degrading to everyday be reminded that he’s the failure amongst the family. Being the only heir to the throne adds enough pressure as is, but also not being a bender? That ruins everything. How would he keep his people safe if a war struck? Sure, Weylon is strong with a sword, with a shield and he could easily handle non-benders on his own, but those who could bend? They’d take one step towards Weylon and he would be on the ground withering in pain.

What kind of Prince was born without any abilities to bend?

In the history of Ayelia, there have never been any more written reports about an heir being born without the ability to bend. Weylon has spent hours upon hours roaming through their library, checking books, hoping for some information about maybe his bending being locked for some crazy reason, or maybe he’s not learning it the correct way. He’s even gone into the Forbidden Library where his father keeps the most important documents. Unfortunately, he ended up getting caught because he’s a little on the clumsy side and knocked stuff over. His father had been furious that day. Weylon still remembers the anger in his eyes.

Oftentimes, Weylon thinks his father will throw him out for being the failure in the family. For being a son who would potentially bring dishonour to their family and yet he doesn’t.

Despite all the things that Weylon does to anger him, he’s still the King’s son, and they’re both fully aware of this fact.

("It isn’t your fault you can’t bend," The King had said. It was after a particularly long and hard day of trying to train Weylon to get into fire bending. He spent the last five hours outside with the trainer and was getting nowhere, only to overhear guards saying that the King would eventually throw Weylon out because he couldn’t do anything right. Weylon had skipped out on dinner that night, refused to even see the King and Queen when they called for him, and that’s when the King decided he needed to talk to him.

It wasn’t easy for Weylon to open up however.

"But father…I can’t do the things you wish of me. I can’t protect this Kingdom, our Kingdom, my Kingdom, if I’m without bending. How do our people learn to trust me? To love me? If when they’re in my hands, fear is the main source that runs its course?"

My son, there is more to a leader than the bending that they control. You will be strong in other ways, you will gain their trust by your actions, not by your powers. The King offers a small smile. "This Kingdom will respect and worship you one day. I can see you’ll do great things for them. Anything, to keep them safe.")

There’s a shared connection between the two of them. A bond of sorts. The King used to take Weylon out to the back and show off his bending, but not to brag. Merely to show Weylon the beauty of the art. The ways that Fire bending can be used.

Fire doesn’t just destroy, it also heals, my son.

Remember it’s not always your enemy.

There’s beauty in things that remain unseen.

Sometimes, Weylon reminisces about those memories. Of the all the times he and his father shared together when he was a child, when he was a teenager. Yet, now at the age of twenty-four, with the crown growing closer and closer to being on his head rather than his parents, that bond isn’t as close. It’s not as strong or tight. Those delightful moments where the King would take Weylon out back and share his bending? They don’t happen anymore. They’ve piled more work onto him. They send him off to do more meetings, more training because if he can’t bend then he has to be strong somewhere else.

Those precious moments where they used to spend time together don’t exist anymore. They stopped the moment that Weylon turned eighteen, when it became evident that no matter how much training and trying Weylon may do, there really is no way to get his body to bend fire. It’s impossible. The reality that the King has even given up on such a thing wallows in Weylon’s heart.

It leaves him feeling guilty, even if he remembers his fathers words from years ago.

It’s not your fault.

And yet, Weylon can’t help but feel like it is.

What did he do to deserve such a life? He’s a good Prince. A great son. He does everything he’s asked for, he heads into town once a week and does his hardest to make sure everything is taken care of. He helps the elderly, he makes sure the children are fed, clothed and receiving the school they need. He’s always got the people on his mind first. His own needs come second, sometimes third, if he has to worry about his parents.

He’s selfless. And yet, for once he wants to be selfish and call himself a bender.

It’s unfortunate that will never happen.

Until it does

2

Chapter Two

Weylon Blaise, crown Prince of Ayelia, the guard announces as Weylon enters the throne room. His heart is racing rapidly. He tries to collect himself, regain his breath as he takes slow strides across the marble floor that echoes underneath his boots. His eyes land on his mother first, he bows his head in her direction before stopping in front of the thrones. Taking a look at his father, he bows down respectfully then stands in position beside him.

One day, that very throne his father is sitting in, will be his.

Weylon doesn’t know whether to be excited or saddened by the thought.

Weylon clears his throat. There’s no one else in the room quite yet besides the guards. From the way someone came knocking on his door, it sounded urgent. His lips curl into a frown. He feels uneasy about this.

Might I inquire as to why you called upon my presence so early, father? He asks quietly. He’s leaning down so no one can overheard their exchange. I don’t see anyone else present besides us.

It’s barely the crack of dawn. From a glance at the sun, Weylon tells it's nearly seven in the morning and they’re already awake. He hates when he’s awake before the birds are. Hates that he’s awake before nine o’clock. How does anyone function this early? How is anyone even awake? Though he knows a lot of businesses open at eight o’clock so they’re open for a good portion of the day. The elderly tend to wake up early as well so they can get in and out before those younger ones take over.

He’s dressed as nice as he can within the allotted time given to him. From waking up to getting here, he only had about ten minutes before the guard at his door said they would be here. It’s been eleven minutes now and Weylon wishes he hadn’t thrown this vest on. It absolutely sucks. It feels as if it’s clawing at his shirt, making it stick to his skin more than usual. He’ll have to change it as soon as this urgent meeting is over.

This is the answer to all our problems. The King replies offhandedly.

Weylon’s face contorts into confusion. Our problems? What problems?

The King raises his gaze, his eyes narrow in on the Prince but he doesn’t say another word. Weylon falls silent. Something about the way his father ignores his question makes him realize he should already know the answer. Yet, he doesn’t. There’s quite a few different problems that Weylon could think of off the top of his head; for example, people in their Kingdom struggling to gather food for their families, jobs becoming more unavailable, and some getting sick who can’t afford to visit a doctor. Those are problems that Weylon has been trying to think of a solution for. Nothing is working though and everything he’s ever thought of gets shut down immediately by his father.

So, what type of problem could they be having that his father would have to invite a guest to the castle? Why isn’t he figuring this problem out on his own?

His eyes glance over to his mother who’s sitting patiently in her own throne. Dark brown hair is pulled back into a nice tight braid, she’s sitting up straight and her posture collected. However, Weylon can tell she’s nervous about this meeting. Uneasy about it. Did she know who they would be meeting? Was she aware of this problem that they were having? Was a solution really near in-sight?

The sound of footsteps echo through the halls of the castle as the grand doors leading outside are opened to reveal three people. Weylon straightens himself up, adjusting the collar of his vest, he stares straight into the eyes of the one leading them. A man who stands just as tall, as if he were a nobleman or someone of higher power. Though, Weylon has never seen the man in his life before.

Who was this?

Your Majesty. The leader greets as his footsteps sound throughout the throne room. The two people behind him make quick work to stay on his trail. They never wander. They act as if they’re not interested in the castle itself but Weylon can see that they both want to look around and stare at all the beauty it has to offer. As soon as all three of them have stopped in front of the thrones, they bow.

Respectful, Weylon’s gaze narrows, for how long?

It’s a pleasure to be within your presence, Your Majesty. He addresses the King, My Queen, you look radiant as ever. Then he looks towards Weylon, Your Highness, a noble man we all admire, minus your inability to bend that is.

Weylon clicks his tongue and makes a step to move forward. Within two seconds, this man has managed to insult him and he’s not even formally introduced himself. His father; however, shakes his head faintly for only Weylon to see and he maintains his position.

Such help these three will be, Weylon grimaces.

He folds his arms behind his back, eyes burning holes into the three standing before him. That uneasy feeling remains. He doesn’t trust them and he’s still unsure of what job they have here. What solution to their problem do they have?

You make the King wait, son. His father speaks up. There’s no patience in his voice already. Weylon can tell he’s just as easily annoyed. Amusing in a way. Introduce yourself already. What cause do you have coming here? How can you be of service to me? To the Prince?

Of course. My apologies, Your Majesty. The man bows again. My name is Baltic. Behind me are two subjects that are under my command.

Under his command, Weylon has to stop himself from scoffing. Such nerve.

I know Your Majesty doesn’t have any other children besides our dear Prince. Baltic continues. The King hums for him to go-on. Very unfortunate that he is without bending, is it not? Those in the Kingdom are very weary of allowing him to take over the throne. They don’t wish to have a leader who cannot even protect himself.

The King’s nose flares, Did you come here merely to bash on my son, Your Prince? He questions. Weylon can tell from his tone that his patience is completely gone and he’s starting to grow angry.

Baltic shakes his head, Quite the contrary. I have an answer to that problem of yours.

Problem? Weylon does step forward this time. He crosses his arms firm over his chest. "It isn’t a problem that I’m without bending, sir. Keep in mind that I can protect this country without the ability of bending."

I meant no disrespect, Your Highness, it’s just…what if there was a way to get your bending? Baltic offers.

Weylon freezes in his footsteps, in his skin. The King scoots forward on his seat. The Queen quivers.

Wha—

Go on. The King says.

My subjects and I have created a machine. One that took us years to perfect all so those who didn’t have bending, could get it. Baltic explains quickly. He motions towards one of the people standing behind him. My friend here, she was born without bending abilities like you, My Prince, but now—

Baltic cuts himself off when his friend steps forward and shoots her hand out to reveal air bending. The King stares in awe.

But that’s not all. Baltic adds. He musters up a grin. One that could be eerily horrific if one stared close enough. Weylon didn’t though. "With our machine, one doesn’t get the ability for just one bending, but two. Show them Arnie."

Arnie holds her other hand out, shoots forward and then watches as fire comes out. Weylon’s eyes widen in surprise. How is it possible for someone to possess two abilities? It’s not. It’s never been done before and this is all from a machine?

All I’m offering, Your Majesty, Baltic is focusing on the King once more. The Queen and Weylon are all but forgotten. A negotiation between the two and Weylon knows he won’t get a say in the matter. Nor will his mother. Not while his father is still King. "Is a chance for our Prince to be the leader we all desire of him. He’ll have not one but two abilities. He’ll be stronger than his enemies. He’ll be able to protect his people. You’ve seen the proof, it can be done."

What is it that you wish for in return? The King mentions. Surely this type of deed doesn’t come without a price. You’d be in the debt of a King, you must fancy this idea quite well. What is it you desire?

Baltic smirks, I’d say the crown but that would defeat the purpose, he laughs jokingly. Weylon rolls his eyes. A friendship then. Seeing as there’s a mountain of people without bending, we could easily change that thanks to our machine. I want access to the castle, I’m a friend now, am I not? No, Weylon thinks. Besides, when Prince Weylon returns from the machine, he’ll need someone to help him with his bending. It isn’t easy to master two abilities especially if you’ve never had one to begin with.

The King purses his lips together. He turns his head to look between the Queen and Weylon before humming. I request that you step outside of the throne room so I may discuss these matters with my wife and son. He answers. I’ll have the guards escort you back inside when I have my answer.

Baltic, Arnie and the third participant bow in understanding. They turn around on their heels as two guards make a move to lead them out of the throne room, the doors close behind them granting them King the privacy he requested.

Father, Weylon speaks freely now. Without the eyes of strangers, of those trying to change him watching or listening. He walks around to stand in front of both the King and Queen. You can’t seriously be considering the man’s offer. What if he can’t be trusted?

Remember, my son, the decision is mine to make. The King speaks. He scoots back in the throne and leans against the stone top of it only for a moment. If Weylon wasn’t staring directly at him, he’d never notice it.

But, my love, is it truly necessary? Weylon is doing so well without bending. Why change him? What if this has unsettling consequences? The Queen speaks up. It isn’t often that she’ll question the King's judgement. Their relationship is strong enough that she trusts him more times than not. Only rarely does she speak up about her own personal opinions. That woman, Arnie, she’s had training. She’s been practicing bending two abilities. Weylon doesn’t have one at all. It will be harder. Plus with his other duties, can he handle it?

He’s the Prince, The King exclaims, He can handle anything if I tell him to do it. He’ll be running an entire Kingdom soon and Baltic is right. If you have two abilities rather than one, you’ll be stronger, better. I think we go for it.

Weylon steps back. He doesn’t even get a say in the matter. His words mean absolutely nothing. He’ll be forced to do whatever his father wishes because as Prince he isn’t the superior one of the two. He clenches his fist at his side.

You would really make me change everything about myself simply so you could have an Heir who bends? Weylon questions.

I am making you change yourself so I’m assured that my Kingdom will be safe when you take over. The King states. He doesn’t give Weylon a chance to reply when he motions towards the guards at the door to allow Baltic and the others back in.

Weylon’s face falls. His heart breaks as he takes his spot beside the King once again. He tries to keep a straight face despite the pain he feels from those words. His own father didn’t believe he’d keep the Kingdom safe anymore. What happened to those words he said when Weylon was younger?

What happened to that father?

I agree to your terms, Baltic, under the assumption you promise my son’s safety.

Baltic nods his head, I promise your son will be in no harm. He’ll return safely in two weeks' time.

Return? Now he’s leaving?

This could not be happening.

One week. The King argues. One week, he’s gone or else the deal is off.

Baltic’s face falters. He glances between Arnie and the other who nod their heads. "Very well, one