"Prince Henry's study was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight when King Alexander barged in, his regal countenance marred by an expression of undisguised anger.
Both Prince Henry and Hugo, his loyal advisor, winced at the piercing tone of the King's voice. Swiftly, Prince Henry brushed away the traces of tears, rising from his desk to confront his father without showing any sign of weakness.
"What on earth are you doing?" King Alexander's voice was sharp, laced with irritation.
Prince Henry met his father's gaze, his voice carrying a note of defiance. "Perhaps you should ask yourself the same question, Father. After all, it was you who allowed these demons to infiltrate our lives."
King Alexander's anger flared. "Enough, Henry!"
Prince Henry, however, refused to back down. He paced the room, his frustration and helplessness bubbling to the surface. "I've tried everything, Father. For a decade, I've striven to alter the terms of this accursed agreement. I've explored every avenue, sought any alternative to offering Helena as the sacrifice, but it's all been in vain!"
He paused, his voice filled with desperation. "Do you realize, Father, that by surrendering Helena, you're consigning her to the clutches of the devil himself? They'll drag her to the depths of hell, and worse, they intend to make her bear a demon's child! Your grandchild will be tainted, half-demon, if we allow this to happen!"
In the silence that followed, Prince Henry's anger mingled with his father's guilt. He continued, his voice quieter but filled with resolve. "Even Beelzebub himself refused to entertain my offers."
King Alexander coughed, taken aback. "You've met Beelzebub?"
Prince Henry recounted his brief encounter with Nimrod, the dreaded Beelzebub, and how he had infiltrated Helena's chamber, altering her appearance to mirror his own.
"We," Prince Henry hesitated and corrected himself, "I mean, since you seem to have no intention of saving your own daughter, I will do everything in my power to protect her while there's still time!"
King Alexander stared vacantly at the wall, his voice barely a whisper. "If, by some miracle, you manage to break the pact, Lucifer himself— not Beelzebub— will come, and he will not just take Helena. He will kill your mother, you, Helena, and every soul in Vertox, right before my eyes. He'll reduce our kingdom to ashes, Henry!"
Prince Henry sank into a nearby chair, the weight of the revelation pressing upon him. He couldn't fathom the idea that millions would become pawns in his father's ill-conceived bargain. His mother, himself, and Helena would all be ensnared by the devil. His heart wrestled with the choice between saving his sister or being the hero who sacrificed one for the many, a brother who couldn't protect his own flesh and blood. A sharp pain throbbed at the back of his skull.
"So we're just going to abandon Helena to Beelzebub?" Prince Henry's voice quivered, tears pooling in his eyes.
King Alexander nodded solemnly. "We have no other choice. I know it's my fault, and I regret what I've done, but breaking the agreement is simply impossible."
Prince Henry's anguish was palpable. He rose again, his impatience evident. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Helena's fate, your own flesh and blood, your cherished daughter, hangs in the balance, and all you're worried about is your reputation among your colleagues?"
"You won't understand until you wear the crown yourself," King Alexander muttered.
Prince Henry locked eyes with his father, his determination unyielding. "Then let me wear it."
"By 'let you,' what exactly do you mean?" King Alexander inquired, his brow furrowing with curiosity.
In the recesses of his mind, King Alexander vaguely recalled the prophecy uttered by a royal fortuneteller several years past. It had foretold that someone close to him would one day attempt to seize his power, a reckoning for the mistakes of his past. Could this be the fateful moment the seer had spoken of? King Alexander pondered this in silence.
Prince Henry, emboldened and unyielding, continued to voice his grievances. "Father, have you no shame for the deeds you've committed? Sooner or later, the festering wounds you conceal will be exposed for all of Vertox to see and smell. Have you no shame for what you've done to us all? You've bartered away your own flesh and blood, your own daughter, for the sake of your own ambition."
With a stern countenance, Prince Henry leaned against the polished surface of his desk. "And do you honestly believe you can keep this dark secret from your people? When we attend state functions, they will undoubtedly inquire about Helena's absence. What will you tell them? That she is indisposed, incapable of attending the event? How long do you plan to hide behind such feeble excuses? My counsel to you, father, is to relinquish your position as the crown prince to me. It may be the only way to mitigate the anger and betrayal they will feel when they inevitably learn the truth."
King Alexander felt as though he had been slapped by Prince Henry's cutting words. His heart ached, as if pierced by a dagger of truth. Without uttering a word, he rose from his seat and unsteadily exited Prince Henry's study, his departure marked by the presence of George, the leader of his loyal guards.