KAEL
The morning of my wedding arrived with the weight of irony hanging in the air. The castle halls, usually filled with murmurs of gossip, now seemed to echo louder with every step I took. They respected me, or so they claimed. In truth, they feared me—and fear breeds a unique kind of hatred.
As I approached the chapel, I could hear the faint strains of the ceremonial music. Inside, I knew Elyra waited. She was a gift, a prize handed to me by my father—a gesture more to rid himself of me than to bestow kindness. I knew what they whispered about her beauty, her charm. None of it mattered to me. She was a symbol of my father's attempt to leash me, nothing more.
The heavy doors to the chapel swung open, and I walked in. Heads turned as they always did when I entered a room, but their gazes never lingered long. Hypocrites. Pretending to revere me when, behind closed doors, they would call me cursed, unworthy.
At the altar, Elyra stood in a gown of white and gold, her eyes flitting nervously toward me. Her beauty was undeniable, but to me, it was another layer of this charade. I would not hurt her, but I would not be the romantic husband she might have imagined. My heart was not mine to give—it had been stripped from me long ago, leaving only the cold void the curse had forged.
The ceremony began. The priest's words washed over me, meaningless and dull. When it came to my turn, I said, "I do," as if reciting a battle cry—short, sharp, and devoid of emotion.
Elyra's voice was softer when she spoke her vows. For a brief moment, our eyes met, and I thought I saw resolve in hers. Perhaps she was stronger than she appeared.
But as soon as the priest declared us husband and wife, the illusion of calm shattered.
---
The doors slammed open, and in strode Alric, his smirk as infuriating as ever. His loyal sycophants followed behind him, their faces smug with arrogance.
"Apologies for the interruption," Alric began, his voice dripping with mockery. "But I simply couldn't hold my tongue any longer."
"Alric," I said coldly, my hand instinctively resting on the hilt of my sword. "What is the meaning of this?"
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing on Elyra. His smirk grew, and his tone shifted into something sickeningly sweet. "I merely came to congratulate you, dear brother. You've done well for yourself. Elyra is... exquisite."
The way he said her name made my blood simmer.
"She's far too beautiful for someone like you," Alric continued, his smirk widening. "In fact, I think she would have made a better match for me."
The murmur of the crowd grew louder, shock and scandal rippling through the room. Elyra stiffened beside me, her eyes wide with a mixture of anger and unease.
"You've made your point," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Now leave."
"Oh, I'm not finished," Alric said, feigning innocence. "Father gave you this union, this... prize. But why? What have you done to deserve her? You're nothing but a cursed shadow, clinging to the edges of his mercy."
I stepped forward, towering over him. "Careful, brother," I warned. "Your words are growing tiresome."
He chuckled, stepping back with an exaggerated bow. "Very well. Enjoy your day, Kael. But remember this—some things are too precious to belong to a man like you."
With that, he turned and strode out, his entourage following close behind.
---
The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Elyra and I exchanged the final words of the ritual, but the damage had been done. As we walked back to the palace, the air between us was heavy with unspoken tension.
"Does he always behave like this?" she asked softly, breaking the silence.
I glanced at her. "Always."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more.
---
Later, as I prepared for the evening banquet, my mind replayed Alric's words. His disdain was nothing new, but his fixation on Elyra was unexpected. She was just another pawn in our father's game, yet Alric's interest in her added a new layer to the conflict.
I wouldn't let him take her—not because of love or sentiment, but because she was mine. The first thing my father had given me, however hollow the gesture. To let Alric take her would be to admit defeat, and that was something I would never do.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. A servant entered, bowing low. "Your Highness, the King has summoned you to the war council chamber."
Of course, he had.
---
The war council was already in session when I arrived. My father sat at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever. Alric was there too, his smug grin a constant thorn in my side.
"Kael," the King said, motioning for me to sit. "We have received troubling reports from the eastern territories. The rebels are growing bolder, and the situation demands immediate attention."
I knew where this was going before he even said the words.
"You will lead the charge," he continued. "Restore order and bring back their leader's head."
The eastern territories were a death sentence, their treacherous terrain and ruthless warriors enough to break even the strongest armies.
"And if I don't return?" I asked, my voice calm.
The King's expression didn't waver. "You are my strongest warrior. I trust you will succeed."
Alric's grin widened, and I realized the truth. This wasn't a mission; it was an execution without the gallows.
"Very well," I said, standing. "I will leave at first light."
As I left the chamber, Alric's voice followed me. "Try not to die too quickly, brother. I'd hate to miss the fun."
---
That night, I stood in my chambers, staring out at the darkened city. Elyra's presence lingered in my thoughts, her face a constant reminder of the chaos that had unfolded today.
She was caught in the same web of schemes and lies, a pawn like the rest of us. But I wouldn't let Alric take her.
This war, this mission—it wouldn't break me. I would return not as a pawn, but as the man who would take the throne by force.
Let them plot. Let them scheme. I would destroy them all.