In the West wing of the Tatarine Empire castle, a heavy silence hung in the air, disturbed only by the occasional rustle of curtains in the wind or the distant clink of armor as the guards made their rounds. The air smelled of polished wood and the faint smell of incense. It was a room meant to inspire awe, to remind all who entered the crown's weight but to Crown Prince Donavan Vella it felt like a cage.
This part of the castle had once been filled with laughter and dreams, the anticipation of waking up the next day with aspiration but now it was of quiet reflection, lingering sadness, and secrets kept away from the rest of the world. Prince Donavan sat in his private chamber watching the little drops of rain wet the flowers outside his chambers. The night was old and tiring but not his mind. Rumors spread like wildfire and as much as he hated listening to the castle mongers, he couldn't help it regarding his life and future.
his longer slender fingers drummed absently on the armrest of his chair, a subtle reminder of the restless energy that still simmered beneath the surface despite his current condition. ¬how could they do this to him?¬ he lamented but his line of thought was interrupted by a soft knock on the door bringing him back to reality. Donavan turned away from the window concealing every trace of worry and uncertainly within him before he ushered his guest in. Prince Garrant Vella entered the room quietly, his steps barely making any sound on the marble floor. His stern face glances around the chambers of his younger brother as if searching for something. Noticing his wandering eyes Donavan snapped his fingers catching the attention of his elder brother.
"What brings you to my space?" he demanded still sitting. Prince Garrant was the first and eldest prince of the empire. His loyalty to the crown was questionable since he lost his birthright to his younger brother. While both have been at odds for the longest time, they still held their heads high and acted in union when needed.
"Father demands your presence" he replied. Donavan was quick to stand to his feet. "Finally" he breathes picking his coat from the sofa. They were in the middle of winter and the nights were frigid "Let's not keep Father waiting" Donavan moved by Garrant's side who hadn't said a word for the longest time. They were not the best of friends but neither were they the worst of enemies. As they moved through the corridors of the palace, the faint whispers of the courties echoed around them barely concealing behind carved wooden doors. The rumor of the crown prince's unfortunate fate had spread like wildfire. Everyone had something to say but Garrants silence was faster eating Donavan than rage within him.
"What was the outcome of today's meeting with the elders?" he asked but his elder brother walked unfazed as if he had not heard the question. It was his place as crown prince to attend with his father but since he had to be the topic of discussion, he was forbidden from attending.
Donavan did not see why he had to stay silent and absent while others deliberated on his fate. They soon arrived at the king's private chambers and Garrant stayed behind while Donavan walked in. Donavan quickly noticed no guard was stationed outside his father's chambers, making him tense up. He moved towards the grand brown oak desk bowed and stood firm.
King Aldric Vella, a man of precision sat behind the desk his hands resting on the armchair his presence imposing even in still silence. His expression was unreadable and calm. "You will marry" he stated, his voice as immovable as stone. "The treaty has been signed. The alliance is necessary" Donavan stood his fist clenched at his sides, his dark eyes burning with barely restrained fury. So all this silence, tight lips had been about his future. His breath came in heavy, his chest rising and falling with the force of his frustration. "Necessary? To whom?" he snapped. "To you? To the council? What of me, father? What of what I want?" King Aldric exhaled slowly, his gaze never wavering. "What you want is irrelevant Donavan, you are the crown prince, you do not have the luxury of selfishness"
The word stroked like a blade in his chest. How was he selfish? He took over when his brother couldn't, He dumbed every dream and passion of his to be at the beg and call of the kingdom, and for the one thing he wanted to decide on, that too had been snatched away from him. Donavan had known this truth and lived beneath its weight since childhood, but hearing it aloud felt different. It made his blood boil.
"I am not a pawn to be moved at your whim" he growled, stepping forward. "You would chain me to a life I do not want, to a stranger I do not know, all in the name of politics?" the king's fingers, curled around the armrests of his seat. "Yes," he said simply. "Because that is your duty"
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. The fire in Donavan's chest warred with the unyielding force of his father's will. He wanted to fight, refuse, and tear down the tradition that bound him but he could not. "Garrant can have the throne, you know I dont.." "you wouldn't dare young man" the king cursed angry veins popping out of his head. "Denounce the throne or reject your groom and I shall have it passed down to Isis" Donavan's heart sank. Did his father not have regard for any of his children? Garrant wanted the throne why couldn't he just have it?
His jaw tightened, his furry simmering beneath his skin. "I will do what is required," he said at last, the words tasted like ash on his tongue. "But do not expect me to thank you for it" The king did not smile, he merely inclined his head. "Good, prepare for your groom to depart from Altera at dawn, this alliance must work"
Donavan turned on his heel and strode from the hall, his footsteps echoing like war drums. If he had to surrender to this fate, he would do so on his terms. One way or another, he would find a way to shape his destiny.