Augustine was more troubled by the situation than any of them. From the moment they insisted on her presence, the gravity of the matter was clear. Yet, despite the urgency, they still found themselves at a loss.
"So, what do we do now, brother?" Ifreen asked, trailing closely behind as Augustine settled into his throne. "If this continues, we won't be able to protect her."
"You think I'm unaware?" Augustine's voice was laced with deep concern as he rested his head in his hand. "But there's nothing we can do. She's been Bound to the Dragneel clan. We have no power to change that," he sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat, the weight of their predicament evident.
Just then, a royal guard entered the chamber, kneeling before the throne. "Your Majesty, Miss Beail of the third clan requests an audience with you," he announced, his voice steady and respectful.
The king exhaled deeply, his fingers interlacing as he composed himself. "Let her in," he commanded, and the guard promptly exited, his armor clanking as he disappeared down the hall. Ifreen, visibly tense, placed a hand on his waist and let out a heavy breath.
"Here comes trouble," he muttered, his voice laden with concern as the door swung open. She entered, fury radiating from her, and without waiting for an introduction, she strode directly toward the king.
"What is the meaning of this, Your Majesty?" she demanded, attempting to push past Ifreen, who tried to hold her back. "I explicitly warned you to keep her out of this!"
"Calm down, darling. None of us foresaw this outcome," Ifreen attempted to placate her, but when she shot him a venomous glare, he raised his hands in surrender and took a cautious step back.
"We all vowed to protect her, and I won't fail Rowan as I failed my sister," she spat, her voice trembling with emotion. "If you refuse to act, then I will."
She turned to leave, but Augustine's shadow bind halted her in her tracks.
"And what exactly do you intend to do?" he thundered, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Will you storm into Etral and drag her out yourself?"
"If that's what it takes, then yes, I will," she shot back fiercely. "Better that than sitting idly by, doing nothing, as you all are."
"Enough with your foolish notions!" the Emperor's voice thundered through the chamber, his fury unmistakable. "Do you truly believe he'll just stand by and watch as you attempt to walk out with his daughter-in-law? Stop with these childish fantasies, Beail!"
Beail unbinds herself, spinning around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. "Then what do you suggest? That we sit here, doing nothing? You've neglected her all this time, so forgive me if I don't believe you have any intention of protecting her…"
"Silence!" the Emperor roared back, his voice sharp as he pointed a trembling finger at her. "Do you honestly think you're the only one here who cares for her? I'll remind you, Beail, that before she is your niece, she is my daughter! I love her more than anything on this earth, so don't presume to be the only one who's tormented by this situation!"
Beail crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "I'm sorry, my lord, but you have a peculiar way of showing that love. And frankly, I don't trust—"
"Hey… Hey! Hey!" Ifreen tried to intervene, only to be silenced by a sharp glance from both of them.
"Stay out of this!" they both shouted in unison, forcing him to step back, throwing up his hands with a resigned grin.
"Listen, Beail," Augustine continued, his tone shifting to something more measured and deliberate. "We all know why I've kept my distance from her, why I've allowed her to live as she wishes. From the moment she was born, it was clear that she bore an unusual attribute. That's why I made the decisions I did, and Haileen agreed with them. I may have failed in many ways, but do not doubt for a second that I love my daughter. I would wage war against the immortals themselves if it meant protecting her."
Beail's anger softened into something more conflicted, her hands dropping to her waist as she turned away, pacing briefly before facing him again. "I'm not questioning your love, Augustine; it's just… once she marries into that family, they'll see the seal in her. And it had to be the royal family, of all people—the strongest clan, and guess what-the queen's clsn specializes in Seal manipulation. They'll detect it. And let me remind you if that seal is removed… chaos will follow her!" She nearly shouted the last part, her voice trembling with fear and frustration.
"I'm well aware, but for now, there's absolutely nothing we can do for her! She's under their protection," the Emperor replies, his voice calm, though his words only serve to fan the flames of Beail's simmering anger, as his apparent resignation to the situation feels like weakness.
"That's enough from both of you," Ifreen steps forward, positioning himself between them as the tension thickens in the room. "I've let you air your grievances, but it's time to remember one crucial thing," he pauses, shaking his head in exasperation, "we're not just dealing with a simple matter here. This isn't just about politics or alliances. We're talking about two of the most mysterious phenomena in our history—the Thread of Fate and the Seal of Love—both of which haven't been seen in a thousand years, and now they've both appeared, choosing them."
He pauses, his tone growing more serious as he counts on his fingers, "A thousand years, and these ancient forces have chosen them? This is no ordinary situation," Ifreen's voice takes on a darker edge as he continues, his gaze shifting from the Emperor to Beail, whose anger is now tempered by deep contemplation, her eyes cast downward as she absorbs the weight of his words.
"And do you fully understand what it means for them to be Bound by the Thread of Fate?" Ifreen presses on, his voice almost incredulous. "Not only that, but they're also entwined by the Seal of Love." He chuckles dryly, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. "This isn't just a matter of concern; it's a damn cosmic alignment. Fate and love, bound together in a way we've never seen before, and you both want to focus on what's already been lost? We need to discuss what this truly means, and what we're going to do about it."
The reality was undeniable; no matter what actions they took, separating them was an impossibility. The moment they were chosen by the Thread of Fate, their destinies were intertwined. They were soulmates, destined to find each other in any lifetime, with or without the MoonBound ceremony. This was the nature of those marked by the Thread—they were Heaven's favorites, the blessed children who would eventually rise to great fortune. But the Seal of Love was an entirely different matter. Binding them together was both a blessing and a curse. They shared one body, one soul; harm to one was harm to the other. To outsiders, it might appear as a divine gift, but those who bore its weight knew it as a relentless curse.
Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog, each person lost in the gravity of Ifreen's words. The tension was thick, almost suffocating, but Beail was not one to sit idly by. She clenched her fists, anger and resolve brewing within her.
"You can sit around and do nothing, but I'll show you what's truly at stake," she declared, spinning on her heel to leave. But before she could take another step, the Emperor's fist slammed against the throne, the sound echoing like a thunderclap.
"Stop right there, Beail!" he commanded, his voice a thunderous roar that reverberated through the chamber.
Beail froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't even have time to react as he began tracing an intricate enchantment in the air with his right index finger. Golden symbols formed in the space between them, glowing with an intense, ethereal light. As he finished the incantation, the golden words coalesced into a radiant circle that surrounded her, emitting a pure, overwhelming aura of power.
"You can't do this!" Beail screamed, her voice laced with both fury and desperation as the force of the spell took hold, dragging her towards a space she knew all too well.
"I can, and you've left me no choice," the Emperor's voice boomed, deep and unyielding, reverberating with finality. "Beail Fairch Grimclaw, I hereby sentence you to seclusion in Jagren House, indefinitely," he decreed, the force of the spell intensifying around her.
"What?" Beail's voice cracked with disbelief and despair. "Indefinitely?" Her eyes darted to Ifreen, a desperate plea flashing in them as she sought any form of intervention.
"Brother, I think—" Ifreen began, stepping forward in a last attempt to reason.
"Unless you wish to join her, keep talking!" the Emperor's voice cut through the air like a blade, freezing Ifreen in his tracks. He turned back to Beail, a sorrowful look in his eyes, but he knew there was nothing more he could do.
Beail struggled against the spell, trying to summon her spirit energy, but found herself powerless. The Emperor had anticipated this, sealing her abilities before she could even attempt to use them.
"You will remain in seclusion until your mind has calmed," the Emperor declared, lifting his finger as if to seal her fate completely. The golden light around Beail intensified, pulling her towards her inevitable imprisonment. She thrashed against the force, cursing him with every breath, but it was no use. The light swallowed her, and with one final, anguished scream, she vanished, leaving only the echo of her curses behind.
"I think you went a little too far, brother," Ifreen remarked quietly, a hint of unease in his voice as he stared at the space where Beail had disappeared.
The Emperor leaned back into his throne, the burden of his actions etched across his face. "I know," he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. "But you and I both know how reckless she becomes when Rowan is involved. We can't afford any mistakes now. When the time comes, we will need her. The final seal can only be broken by a Fairch, and Haileen placed that trust in her. Beail is more than just your wife, Ifreen—she's our last line of defense. Remember that."
A somber silence settled over the room, the tension thick in the air. The Emperor took a deep breath, his attention drawn to the black portal that slowly opened, its presence casting an ominous shadow across the chamber. The atmosphere shifted, the very air seeming to vibrate with the weight of the moment.
The royal guardian stepped through the portal, his expression stoic as he bowed before them. "My Lords, they have arrived."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed, his voice firm and commanding. "Then let them in."
Ifreen turned to face the door, his posture tense.
ROWAN
Since childhood, I had always imagined what the Immortal Realm would be like, a place whispered about in tales of grandeur and mystery. The allure of the unknown, the daily life of the most exalted race, had fueled my curiosity for as long as I could remember. Now, as we soared through the sky on the back of a colossal sky whale, that curiosity turned into awe. The world unfolding before me was beyond anything I could have conjured in my dreams—an existence on a plane entirely its own.
I had heard stories that only two realms in all existence were blessed with an abundance of pure air: the Immortal Realm and the Merman Realm. As I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, I felt the truth of those tales. The air was like liquid silk, winding its way through my lungs, purifying every fiber of my being. It was invigorating, a sensation so pure that it felt as though the very essence of life was being renewed within me. When I opened my eyes again, the sight that met me was nothing short of extraordinary.
The sea stretched out endlessly, a vast expanse of water shimmering with ethereal beauty, each wave painted in five distinct, luminous colors. It was as if the ocean itself had captured the hues of the heavens and earth, blending them into a living, breathing canvas. The land below was a rolling field of flowers, an endless tapestry of vibrant blossoms that seemed to dance in time with a hauntingly beautiful melody emanating from the earth. Each note floated up to meet us, wrapping the world in a symphony of nature's own making.
As we glided over this paradise, the landscape shifted, revealing a grand avenue unlike any I had ever seen. The streets were lined with towering structures, but these were no ordinary buildings. In the Human Realm, one would find homes of wood, mud, or stone, each sturdy and practical. But here, the buildings were crafted from silver and gold, gleaming with a brilliance that spoke of unimaginable wealth and power. The scent of metal and magic mingled in the air, an intoxicating aroma that hinted at the extravagance of the Immortal Realm.
"Do they even comprehend the value of what they possess?"
"The use of gold in our realm isn't as widespread, but we understand its value to your kind," Roderan's voice broke the silence. His tone was firm, and he kept his eyes fixed forward. He was now dressed in sleek black martial arts attire, his arms crossed over his chest. His demeanor was noticeably detached.
"Remember to manage your negative thoughts," he said, still not looking at me. "We're bound together in body and soul, so I can hear what you're thinking."
I sighed deeply. I had nearly forgotten that aspect of our bond. I had come across this information in my father's collection. It was unfortunate that I had to be bound to him. I nodded to myself and decided to suppress any negative thoughts. As I gazed down, we floated past a vibrant market scene below.
"Miss, I recognize this place," Tara called out. She was the only attendant allowed to accompany me. "It's called—" she paused, trying to remember, "Ah, yes, Florter Market!"
Her exclamation drew a few quiet laughs from those around us, their amusement clearly audible.
"It's not Florter Market; it's called Fleter Home," Roderan corrected her. "We call it 'Home' because it's a place where all races can live together freely. There are no restrictions here. It's an open space for everyone."
"Tch… Florter or Fleter, what does it matter?" I snapped, irritation seeping into my voice. "From now on, I'll simply call it Florter Market." I yanked Tara along, and we leaped from our elevated vantage, landing softly on the ground below. We darted through the labyrinth of stalls, our senses overwhelmed by the kaleidoscope of colors and the cacophony of sounds. The market thrived with an energy that felt familiar yet exotic. If one were blindfolded and placed here, they'd be hard-pressed to recognize they were in the immortal realm.
Eagerly, we navigated the crowded thoroughfare, our eyes darting from one intriguing stall to the next. I came to a halt at a vendor's stall, the rich aroma of meat buns filling the air. I produced a few jade coins, exchanging them for a steaming bun. Its warmth and flavor were a delightful contrast to the crisp air. We continued our exploration, savoring the experience with each step.
The market was a sensory overload, a melting pot of cultures and races. Goods from humans, beasts, elves, and merfolk were displayed in a vibrant array. We were soon swept into a circle of dancing children, their laughter mingling with ours as we joined their rhythmic twirls and leaps. After sharing a handful of jade coins with the little dancers, we moved on.
As we wandered to the far end of the market, a large silver gate came into view, imposing and elegant. A tense scene unfolded before it: a group of ten guards were harshly dragging four boys, their expressions set in grim determination.
"Hey! Stop right there!" I called out, my voice cutting through the ambient noise. I rushed forward, shoving the guards aside with a firm push. Tara quickly moved to assist the boys, her hands steady as she helped them to their feet.
"What's going on here?" I demanded, my anger barely contained. "Why are you grown men bullying these children?"
They turned to us with confused expressions, their gazes locked on us as if we had grown a second head.
"Miss!" Tara's voice broke through the tension.
"What is it?" I asked, turning towards her. She pointed at the group, and it suddenly hit me—these weren't just boys. They were dwarves, their eyes blazing with anger. I smiled awkwardly, offering a small wave. Well, this was great. It's common knowledge that dwarves detest being mistaken for children. They might be short, but like elves, their lifespan stretches over centuries.
"Miss, I think they're more upset with us now," Tara said with a nervous smile, standing beside me.
I forced a genuine smile. "Sorry about that, but from a distance..."
"We looked like small boys, huh?" The eldest among them snarled, his voice thick with anger. "We never asked for your help! All humans are the same—just because we're small doesn't mean we can't defend ourselves!"
Their anger intensified, faces contorting as their bodies began to glow. Muscles bulged, expanding with each passing second, their stature transforming from diminutive to towering. Their spirit energy surged, growing ever more potent. "Do we look like we need your help now, human?" one of them roared, his voice shaking the ground beneath us. More soldiers joined the fray, forming ranks as the dwarves became hulking giants, their mere presence radiating an overwhelming power. Every step they took sent tremors through the earth.
"Oh, miss! This is their dwarven spirit form—the indestructible form!" Tara shrieked as we instinctively retreated, the soldiers encircling the dwarves. They spun their spears with precision, slamming them into the ground with synchronized incantations. A blue tattoo-like symbol appeared above the dwarves, melting down into a shimmering barrier that encased them.
The dwarves let out a ferocious cry as they charged at the barrier, hammering against it with relentless force. Each impact reverberated through the air, pushing the soldiers backward as they struggled to maintain their ground.
"Soldiers of the Silverfang Clan!" one of the soldiers bellowed, his voice filled with urgency. "Maintain your ground!" The command echoed through the air as the soldiers responded with a unified roar, bracing themselves against the relentless onslaught of the dwarves. But the dwarves kept growing, their bodies expanding to monstrous sizes, their skin turning a fiery red. With each slam, the ground trembled, and several soldiers were sent flying, the rest struggling to hold the line as they chanted incantations in unison.
"Ohhh!" I let out a startled laugh, unable to tear my eyes away from the towering figures before me. "They're so overwhelming! Just how big can they get?"
Tara, standing beside me, seemed more excited than frightened. "Oh, according to what I've heard, superior dwarves can grow as huge as a mountain," she replied, her eyes wide with fascination.
The dwarves were wild, overpowering the soldiers with ease, their strength unmatched. But just as it seemed they would break through, a sudden flash of light descended upon them. Like a bolt from the heavens, a formation crashed down, enveloping the dwarves and forcing them to shrink back to their original size. They collapsed to the ground, their giant forms now reduced to their usual stature.
We turned to see the soldiers dropping to their knees, their heads bowed in reverence. Floating above us was a young man, his presence commanding yet serene. He was dressed in a robe lined with blue, his long silver hair cascading elegantly over his shoulders. A silver pendant hung around his neck, glinting in the light. As he descended gracefully, his calm demeanor exuded authority, and he walked toward us with an air of quiet power.
"You take over from here," the young man commanded, his voice steady and unwavering. His silver eyes locked onto ours, devoid of warmth or emotion as if weighing our very existence. We forced polite smiles, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect as we prepared to leave, but before we could retreat, he appeared before us in a blink, blocking our path with effortless speed. He stepped forward, his presence imposing, but suddenly halted when another figure descended from the sky with a graceful yet authoritative air.
The newcomer was a young man, clad in elegantly crafted blue martial robes, his every movement exuding a calm confidence. He held a metallic green fan in his hand, which he twirled absently, as if it were an extension of himself. "Forgive my intrusion, young master of the Silverfang," he spoke with a smooth, composed tone, his hands crossing behind his back in a sign of deference.
The first man's eyes narrowed slightly, recognition dawning in their depths. "Lang Ming of the Floral Clan?" he remarked, his voice carrying a note of acknowledgment, though his face remained impassive. "What brings you here?"
Lang Ming tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting briefly towards us before returning to the Silverfang. "I've come to retrieve them," he stated, his tone polite yet firm.
The Silverfang young master's expression hardened. "They are potential suspects in the incident…" he began, his voice tinged with reluctance.
Lang Ming, however, was not to be deterred. With a subtle flick of his fan, he cut the Silverfang's words short. "Perhaps you should save your explanation for your Lord," he suggested, his voice as smooth as silk. "He is quite eager to meet his future daughter-in-law. In fact, he was nearly prepared to come here himself." The mention of the Lord's impatience visibly unsettled the Silverfang, his rigid posture softening as he crossed his hands in a deep bow.
"My apologies for my rudeness. I did not realize the significance of your presence," he offered, his tone now laced with courtesy.
Lang Ming's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It's wise to be sincere, even if the sentiment is not genuine," he advised with a knowing glint in his eyes. "After all, if I hadn't arrived when I did, my young master would have come himself, and…" He let the thought linger, watching with satisfaction as the Silverfang young master abruptly dropped to his knees, cutting off any further admonition.
"My lady, please forgive this rude servant. I will strive to be more diligent in the future," the Silverfang pleaded, his voice carrying a newfound sincerity. With a graceful sweep of his fan, Lang Ming enveloped us in a shimmering light, transporting us instantly to another realm.
We arrived on a vast expanse of marble that glowed with a soft, ethereal light, the air thick with potent, mystical energy. The ground beneath our feet thrummed with life, each step sending ripples through the polished surface. All around us, plum trees stood in perfect symmetry, their blossoms vibrant and full, their delicate petals drifting lazily on the breeze. The trees seemed to hum with a quiet power, their roots intertwined with the very essence of the land.
In the distance, grand structures rose majestically, their walls adorned with intricate carvings and rich embellishments that spoke of ancient traditions and immense wealth. Each building radiated a strong, protective energy, their presence almost intimidating in its grandeur. Ahead of us, a massive hall appeared to float effortlessly above the ground, its foundation hidden from view, giving it an air of otherworldly grace.
Lang Ming lowered himself to his knees, his hands crossing above his head in a gesture of utmost respect. "Lang Ming of the Floral Clan humbly welcomes the young lady," he declared, his voice reverberating through the stillness. The scene before us was nothing short of awe-inspiring, a blend of beauty and power that left me breathless as if I had stepped into a realm far beyond my imagination. It was so new. I rush to him, forcing him up.
"That's enough," I pull him up, "just stand up,"
As the heavy doors to the hall creak open, a powerful force rushes toward us, almost as if the very air was alive.
"You may approach!" a thunderous voice booms, sending a shiver down my spine. Lang remains calm, and from the hall, a bridge begins to form. It's not just any bridge—this one is made of crystal, clear and shimmering with a myriad of colors. Butterflies and flowers seem to glow within it, adding to its ethereal beauty. As the bridge reaches us, I can feel a calming essence emanating from it, soothing my nerves. With a slight nod from Lang, we begin to walk across.
Tara stays close behind, but I can sense that she feels the same overwhelming power I do. As we get closer, a curtain of light, like a waterfall made of blue mist, descends in front of us. Lang walks through it without hesitation, and after a moment's pause, I follow.
On the other side, we step into a large, warm garden. It's filled with different animal statues, each standing in beautifully decorated pools. Butterflies of every color flit about, making the scene feel almost dreamlike. We continue along a marble path, the surroundings are so vast and open that it feels like we're outside, not inside a hall. As we walk, we pass soldiers in silver and white armor, their faces hidden beneath helmets, each holding a silver spear with quiet strength.
Ahead, a massive white marble door swings open, and an even stronger aura floods over us as we step through. Inside, the hall is enormous. Two giant dragon statues stand at the entrance—one with glowing blue eyes, the other with a fierce red. A staircase leads down into the center of the hall, where about fifty immortals sit, watching us intently. Their silence speaks volumes, and I can feel their judgment in their gazes. At the far end of the hall, a figure sits on a large throne, dressed in dark red robes. He holds a jug, and even from here, I can catch the faint scent of blueberry juice with a hint of honey.
As we move closer, I notice Lang standing before the throne. Next to the imposing figure, in a smaller seat, sits a woman of breathtaking beauty. Her skin is as pale as moonlight, her eyes a dazzling emerald green, and her long green hair flows gracefully over her shoulders. She smiles at us—a smile so warm and genuine that it almost makes me want to kneel before her. She is the very image of a goddess, her golden gown shimmering in the light, her presence unimaginably comforting.
The room buzzes with murmurs as I make my way forward, my eyes landing on Roderan seated to the right, his gaze fixed ahead as if I don't exist. He abandoned me and now pretends he doesn't even know me. Typical.
"What the hell are you doing?" the man on the throne roars again, the same voice that summoned us earlier. I turn to see him glaring at Roderan. "Aren't you going to introduce your fiancée to us?" he barks, but Roderan doesn't even flinch.
"I believe she has her own mouth to introduce herself," he replies, his voice cold as ever.
"You little…" the man growls, pointing a finger at him before turning his attention to me. "Young people these days, I swear," he mutters, stepping down from his throne. "Forgive my son; as a father, I've failed in many things, and manners is one of them." He offers me a smile, and I manage to return it, though words seem to elude me.
Just as he's about to take another step, she suddenly pushes past him, practically shoving him aside as she approaches me. Her hands grasp mine, her smile warm and bright.
"Oh, I heard you were the fifth prettiest lady among the immortals, but…" Her expression drops like she's disappointed. Ouch, that stings. But then she lights up again. "You're so much prettier! Whoever said that clearly has no taste in beauty," she giggles, tilting her head as she takes me in.
"Mother," Roderan interrupts, his voice laced with irritation. "Control yourself, you're in the—"
She hushes him with a wave of her hand, turning to address the other immortals. "You are all dismissed. I'd like a moment with my future daughter-in-law," she orders, and they all file out. She then pulls me over to a nearby seat. A young brunette joins us, who looks just like her, except with brown eyes. But they share the same hair color, skin tone, and smile.
"So, what do they call you?" she asks excitedly.
"Rowan…" I manage to say, but the other woman chimes in.
"I love your hair color! Is it naturally blonde, or did you dye it?" she asks in a sweet tone.
"It's my natural color," I reply with a smile.
"That's amazing! I've never seen someone so young with natural white hair—most people just dye it," she says with a little laugh.
"Rowan, my dear, how do you feel being here?" Her Majesty asks, her voice warm and gentle.
"Mother, let's ask her that later, once she's had a chance to settle in," Athera interjects before I can even answer, her smile playful but a bit too intense.
"You're overwhelming her, both of you," a woman seated beside Roderan says, her tone stern. She has the same cold demeanor as him. "At least introduce yourselves properly," she adds, shaking her head as Athera and Her Majesty shoot her irritated glares.
"I'm Athera Hethra Dragneel," Athera says, wrapping me in a sudden, tight hug. "From now on, you'll be my one true sister," she says, patting my back as if we've known each other forever.
Her Majesty gently pulls me away from Athera's enthusiastic embrace. "And I'm Hanzel Hethra Dragneel. From now on, you'll be my younger daughter," she says, her smile so genuine that it almost makes me tear up on the spot.
"Which I suppose makes me your father," His Majesty adds, appearing behind me with a grin. His presence is comforting, oddly so, like something I've always longed for but never had—warmth, family, the simple affection of people who care. It feels strange, yet I don't hate it. Instead, it's like a part of me that's been missing for far too long is finally being filled.
"Oh, dear, what's wrong?" Hanzel's concerned voice breaks through my thoughts, and that's when I realize tears are streaming down my face. I try to smile, but it only makes the tears flow faster, uncontrollably.
"I told you, you're overwhelming her," the woman seated across from us says, her voice calm and unbothered.
Tara quickly hands me a handkerchief. "No, it's not that," I say, my voice trembling. "It's just… I haven't felt like this in so long. It's…"
"There's no need to cover for them; they're being annoying," Roderan's cold voice cuts through the moment, though he's quickly hushed by his mother.
"Don't mind him," the Lord speaks up, shaking his head in exasperation. "These two, I swear…" He points at Roderan. "Sometimes I wonder if they're really my children. I mean, just look at him," he says, grabbing a jar from the table. "Nothing like me at all."
"What are you talking about? I have your eyes, your presence, and your—" Roderan begins but stops as the jar is thrown toward him. He catches it mid-air, setting it back down on the table with telekinetic ease. "Could you refrain from throwing things? It's unbecoming of a ruler."
"See that?!" the Lord exclaims, pointing at Roderan. "So cold, so serious—doesn't even know how to take a joke! And he calls himself my son…" His voice trails off as Her Majesty kicks him, sending him stumbling to the floor before she starts pelting him with pieces of fruit.
"If he's not your son, are you implying I cheated on you?!" she snarls, her eyes blazing with fury.
The Lord scrambles to his feet, rushing to her side and dropping to his knees. "Darling, you know that's not what I meant," he pleads, pulling her into a tight hug.
"You two should get a room," she coldly quips, rolling her eyes, but Her Majesty whirls on her, enraged.
"Who the hell gave birth to that one? Because there's no way she's mine!" she cries out, glaring daggers at her. "Definitely didn't give birth to that one."
She shakes her head before turning back to Roderan, muttering curses as she disappears. Meanwhile, the Lord continues his tirade against Roderan, hurling jars at him from across the room. Roderan effortlessly stops each one with a flick of his mind, setting them down on the table beside him as if this is all completely normal.
And that's when it hits me—what the actual hell is going on? This family, so powerful and esteemed, is nothing like I imagined. They're…ordinary. Too ordinary, compared to my own family. It's baffling, surreal, and utterly confusing. None of this makes any sense at all. The way they casually speak and play around, I mean is this happening? What!!!