The castle walls were heavy with silence, the kind that presses down on a man's chest and suffocates him from the inside out. Alistair stood by the grand window of his chamber, his back to the room, as he gazed at the mist that clung to the mountains beyond. The sun was setting, the sky painted with hues of violet and gold, but there was no warmth in the light—not anymore.
A sharp, bitter cough broke the stillness in the air, and Alistair brought a hand to his throat, feeling the rasp of it deep within his chest. The curse was at work again. It wasn't just the physical toll anymore, though that had grown harder to ignore as the weeks passed. It was in the way his thoughts seemed fogged and his body ached with a heaviness that no amount of sleep could fix. The longer he lived with it, the harder it became to hold onto who he once was.
He could hear the sound of his mother's soft footsteps approaching, followed by the heavier tread of his father. The queen was always gentle when she came to see him, her presence a quiet comfort, like the soft glow of candlelight in a dark room. The king, on the other hand, was a constant reminder of the duty Alistair could never escape.
"Alistair?" His mother's voice was soothing, but he could hear the edge of worry in it. "How are you feeling today?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes remained on the mist, watching the way it moved like a slow river over the hills. His chest tightened at the thought of the future that awaited him—the future his father demanded he embrace, one that involved more than just ruling a kingdom. It meant marrying a noblewoman to secure alliances, to produce heirs, to strengthen the kingdom. It meant putting duty above his own heart.
"Alistair," the king's voice rumbled behind him, firm and filled with authority, "you've been given everything you could ever need. The kingdom will not wait for your whims. You must put aside this—this curse of yours, and take the throne. You have a responsibility to this kingdom and to your people."
Alistair stiffened, feeling the weight of his father's words like a physical force pressing down on him. His father had never been a man of tenderness, of understanding. He was the king, and kings ruled with strength, with pragmatism, with an unwavering grip on power. But Alistair... he couldn't see how he could live the life the king wanted him to, not while the curse ate away at him from the inside.
"I will find a way," Alistair said quietly, his voice hoarse. He didn't look at them, didn't want to meet his father's sharp gaze.
The king's footsteps moved closer, the rustle of his robes the only sound that filled the room for a moment. "I've heard of a mage," he said, his voice low, cold. "A rogue, out in the wilds, somewhere beyond our borders. They say he's powerful. Maybe he can help you."
Alistair turned sharply, finally meeting his father's eyes. The king's face was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a silent demand, an unspoken command.
"A rogue mage?" Alistair asked, his brow furrowing. The idea seemed absurd, but in his desperation, he could hardly afford to be picky. Magic wasn't something to be trusted, especially when it came to those who had turned away from the kingdom.
"Yes," the king replied. "He's your only hope. The curse won't break on its own, and if you continue to weaken, the throne will be left in the hands of someone else." His voice was stern, but there was a flicker of something—concern? Perhaps. But Alistair knew it wasn't the kind of concern a father would show for his son. It was about power, about control.
Alistair's chest tightened, but he knew he had no choice. He would find this mage, this rogue, and he would do whatever it took to end the curse. For his kingdom, for his father... for himself.
But there was something else in the back of his mind, something he dared not voice. The rogue mage, whoever he was, might be the key to breaking the curse, but there was a risk. A danger. And Alistair knew that getting involved with someone like that could lead to more than just the loss of his crown.
It could lead to the loss of his heart.