At the break of dawn, Queen Athena, accompanied by Aron and Ivan, set out for the North under the escort of Ser Arthur and Ser Robert. Their journey was swift, and by midday, the grand palace of the North loomed before them. King Theoden stood at its entrance, awaiting their arrival.
His gaze fell upon the unfamiliar boy, and with a curious tilt of his head, he asked, "Queen Athena, may I inquire about this little one?"
Athena's expression remained composed. "He is my nephew's son, Ivan."
Theoden's brow furrowed slightly. "If memory serves me right, you do not have a nephew."
Her voice did not waver. "King Theoden, how much do you truly know of my family?" A moment's pause, then she added, "Regardless, he is under my protection, and I assure you—his presence will not cost you your fortune."
Theoden let out a hearty chuckle. "You misunderstand me, Queen Athena. I was merely curious. Besides, what harm can a boy do to me? Welcome to the North, Your Majesty."
With that, they stepped into the palace.
As they entered the grand hall, a cheerful voice echoed from the corridor.
"Ivan, over here!"
Prince Alastair stood in the middle of the hall, waving enthusiastically. At his side were Princess Evylin, a striking young man with golden hair and regal posture—Prince Charlie of House Tyrron, son of Trillwick Tyrron—and an unknown yet undeniably charming figure.
While Athena retired to her chambers for rest, Aron and Ivan approached the group.
Aron's sharp eyes fixed on Alastair. "Do you even remember me, Alastair?"
Alastair grinned. "How could I forget you, Aron?" Then, gesturing toward the unfamiliar figure, he continued, "Meet him—Nicholas of House Pendragon."
Aron arched a skeptical brow. "Pendragon, is it? Are you certain? Because if this is a lie, there will be no escape for you."
Princess Evylin sighed in exasperation. "Aron, must you always be so confrontational? Can you not leave these matters to our parents?"
"Fine. Entertain yourselves with your new friend, then." Aron's voice was laced with disdain. "As the future King of Stellaraether, I have no time to waste on childish gatherings."
His gaze then snapped to Ivan, his voice dropping into something cold and commanding. "And you, forsaken beggar—do not forget to fill the water jugs in my chamber. Do not get too comfortable with them."
The room fell into stunned silence as Aron turned on his heel and strode away.
Alastair let out a breath, shaking his head. "Something has changed in Aron. He is… different."
Evylin frowned. "Whatever it is, it does not excuse his lack of courtesy." She turned to Nick with an apologetic smile. "Do not mind him—he has always been arrogant."
Nick merely nodded, his expression unreadable.
Alastair then motioned toward Ivan. "Princess, Nick—meet my friend, Ivan. And you know what my father told me? Ivan is an exceptional spell caster—he can weave powerful enchantments."
Nick's eyes flickered with sudden interest. His voice, smooth as silk, carried an almost unnatural allure as he asked, "Can you break curses?"
The question caught Ivan off guard. He stared at Nick for a brief moment before responding, his tone hesitant, "Breaking curses requires immense power…" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added hurriedly, "I must go, or Aron will be furious." Without another word, he turned and left.
Alastair blinked in surprise. "What was that about?"
Evylin sighed. "Never mind that. Come, let us go and play."
Ivan hurried toward Aron's chamber, pushing open the heavy door. Inside, Aron was practicing the healing spell-"iáōmai"-but nothing happened. His frustration was evident, his hands tightening into fists.
As Ivan stepped inside, setting down the water jug, Aron's gaze snapped to him. "Here, Ivan."
Something in his voice made Ivan tense. As he approached, Aron unsheathed his sword in one swift motion. The glint of steel made Ivan flinch, his mind flashing back to the previous day-the brutal fight, the near-death moment when Aron's blade had almost taken his head, and the sharp sting of the wound still fresh on his waist.
"What's the matter, Aron?" Ivan asked, his voice laced with hesitation.
Before he could react, Aron's fist slammed into his stomach. The impact sent Ivan crashing to the floor, a sharp cry escaping his lips as pain shot through him.
"What was that for?" Ivan gasped, his voice trembling, choking on pain.
Aron towered over him, his expression cold. "It's Your Grace, not Aron, you beggar. I am not your friend-I am your King. Remember that."
Ivan wiped his tears and frustration burning in his eyes as he stood up.
"Now," Aron continued, stepping closer, "tell me the truth. How do I cast the healing spell?"
Ivan clenched his fists. "I told you before-if you want to cast a healing spell, you must first feel the pain of the wounded."
Aron's expression darkened. His hand shot forward, ready to strike again, but before it could land, Ivan uttered a single word:
"Amynomai."
The spell rippled through the air. Aron's hand froze mid-strike, suspended by an invisible force. His frustration boiled over.
"You-freaking bastard beggar! Undo the spell now!" he roared.
But Ivan only turned away. Without another word, he left the chamber, ignoring Aron's furious commands.
Moments later, the spell wore off, and Aron's fist fell to his side-throbbing, red, aching. He let out a breath, staring at his hand. Slowly, he murmured, "iáōmaí."
A soft glow flickered over his skin, and the pain faded. The spell had worked.
Aron sat at the edge of his bed, staring at his hand, his thoughts swirling. For the first time, he understood.
Ivan rushed into the palace gardens, stumbling into a secluded corner. He collapsed onto the grass, clutching his aching stomach, his body trembling from the lingering pain. His breaths were ragged, and despite his best efforts, tears welled up in his eyes.
A smooth, silken voice drifted from behind him.
"Why are you crying?"
Ivan turned abruptly. A meter away stood Nicholas, watching him with unreadable eyes.
Quickly, Ivan wiped his tears and forced a smile. "It's nothing," he muttered, scrambling to his feet, ready to leave.
But before he could move, Nick grasped his wrist firmly.
"No," Nick said, his tone calm yet unyielding. "You haven't answered my question."
Ivan hesitated. "Look, I'm telling you the truth—I don't know how to break curses. But if I ever learn in the future, I'll tell you, alright? Now let go."
Nick's grip didn't loosen. "I'm not talking about the curse. I'll figure that out myself. I asked why you were crying."
Ivan faltered. Words failed him, and in his desperation, he blurted, "Never mind. I'm just like this—I like crying. Now let me go!"
Yanking his hand free, he turned and ran, his vision blurring. He shut his eyes for just a moment—
Thud!
Ivan collided into someone, stumbling backward. A steady hand caught him before he could fall.
"Whoa, easy there!" came a warm, amused voice. "Why are you running with your eyes closed? You're going to get yourself hurt."
Ivan looked up to see Prince Charlie of House Tyrron, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Flustered, Ivan quickly bowed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he stammered before taking off again, vanishing like a gust of wind.
The Court of the North
The grand hall was silent. The heads of all the noble houses sat in their designated seats, their gazes locked on King Theoden, who sat upon his throne. The air was thick with tension.
Athena finally broke the silence. "Just because he holds the sword does not mean he is a true Pendragon."
Lord Charles Pendragon, head of House Pendragon, did not waver. "Only a true Pendragon can wield Lartharon's power. Nicholas, my son, has drawn the blade before all present."
Athena's gaze was sharp. "And yet, I was not present to witness his so-called ability. How am I to trust mere words?"
Queen Lucille of the West narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting that we have lied, Queen Athena? Because that accusation borders on treason."
Athena let out a soft chuckle. "Treason? My dear Queen of the West, you think too far ahead. I merely speak the truth. When you conducted the test, I was absent. And by law, all noble houses must bear witness."
King Trillwick of the East nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, Queen Athena. How about we settle this with a vote?"
Lucille raised her hand. "I vote in favor of House Pendragon. Nicholas has proven himself."
Lord Adam of House Caratheon followed. "I agree with Queen Lucille."
Athena's gaze flickered to Adam but she remained silent.
King Theoden spoke at last. "It is decided. House Pendragon is acknowledged as the true bloodline."
Athena turned to Charles. "Then tell me, Lord Charles, why has your family been in hiding all these years?"
A shadow passed over Charles's face. He hesitated, then sighed. "Because of the curse."
The room fell deathly silent.
"Years ago," Charles began, "before House Pendragon and House Dragon vanished from history, a great conflict arose between Daeron Pendragon—the head of our house during Stellaraether's third generation—and His Majesty Aeron of House Dragon, the last known descendant of his line… and the Great Five Elementer."
A few murmurs echoed through the hall. The name Aeron of House Dragon had not been spoken in generations.
"His Majesty was furious," Charles continued. "We do not know what transpired between him and Daeron, but in his wrath, he cursed our bloodline… cursed us with humanity. He stripped us of our essence, ensuring that with every passing generation, we would decay further and further until nothing remained of our power."
Athena listened intently, an unreadable expression on her face.
"The moment Daeron was cursed, he perished. Only his younger siblings survived. In fear, they fled the palace, taking Lartharon with them, using what remained of their strength to weave a sanctuary deep in the woods. That is where we have remained, hidden from the world. But now… my powers are gone. I can no longer maintain the magic that concealed us. That is how we were discovered."
His voice grew solemn. "I live only on sheer life force now."
Athena's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, though she masked it well. "And do we have the pleasure of knowing why Aeron cursed Daeron? Surely, an event so significant would be recorded in Stellaraether's history?"
Charles shook his head. "Only we Pendragons know the truth. But even we possess only half of the story. Our ancestors fled so quickly that they took no records with them. However, we do have one account—The Fall of House Pendragon, written by our ancestor, Divina Pendragon. Without her, we would know nothing at all."
He reached into his robes and pulled out a weathered book, its pages yellowed with age. He handed it to Athena.
She took it, her fingers brushing over the ancient cover. Inside, she was brimming with triumph. Outwardly, she remained composed.
"Very well," she said at last. "I acknowledge Nicholas as the rightful heir of House Pendragon."
With that, the court was dismissed.
Before departing, King Theoden made his final decree. "Since I have no heir, House Pendragon shall rule the North after me."
A silent ripple passed through the noble lords. The balance of power had shifted.
And in the depths of her mind, Athena smiled.
Athena's Chambers
Athena stood near the window, gazing at the moonlit sky, her fingers tapping lightly against the stone sill. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room.
A knock came at the door.
"Enter."
Within moments, Ser Arthur stepped inside and bowed. "Your Grace."
Athena turned to face him, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "You were right, Ser Arthur. House Pendragon has nothing left but an empty title. Even with Lartharon in their possession, it is futile—the boy will soon lose his powers and die. And when that moment comes, the North will be ours."
Ser Arthur remained impassive. "And what of the boy, Ivan? Have you been keeping watch?"
Arthur nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. There is… something peculiar about him. Today, I witnessed him casting a defensive spell against Prince Aron when Aron attempted to strike him."
Athena's brows lifted slightly. "Did Aron get hurt?"
"No, Your Grace. But…" Arthur hesitated before continuing. "Afterward, I saw His Highness mastering the healing spell."
A pause. Athena's expression darkened.
"Interesting."
She dismissed Arthur with a wave of her hand. "That will be all."
With a bow, Ser Arthur turned and left the chamber.
Not long after, Ser Robert entered, bowing low. "Your Grace, King Adam has sent his message. The Elder Ent is in custody."
Athena barely acknowledged him. "You may go."
As soon as the door shut behind him, she wrapped herself in a dark cloak and slipped out of her chambers, moving through the hidden passages of the palace.
She arrived at Adam's chamber unnoticed. Without knocking, she pushed open the door.
Inside, King Adam lay sprawled on the cold floor, his body trembling, his skin nearly ashen. Tendrils of dark energy coiled around him like living smoke. His breathing was ragged, his eyes barely open.
Athena knelt beside him, pressing a hand to his chest. A faint hum filled the air as she channeled her magic, forcing the dark essence to retreat. Slowly, the shadows dissipated, and Adam let out a shaky breath.
Her eyes flickered to his. "How dare you, Adam?" Her voice was filled with fury. "Why did you side with the Pendragons?"
Adam merely smiled. "Come now, Athena. You know as well as I do—House Pendragon is nothing. Their magic is fading, their power dwindling. They pose no threat to us."
Adam struggled to sit up. "And why didn't you inform me that you were taking someone from my territory? And worse—why did you order me to detain the Elder Ent without my consent?"
Athena's expression remained unreadable. "I was in a hurry. It slipped my mind."
Adam scoffed. "Don't play innocent with me, Athena. I know you far too well."
A tense silence stretched between them. Then Adam exhaled sharply, as if weighing his next words.
"And what should I do with the scholars?" he asked. "The ones I took from the other regions. No one has noticed their absence yet, but it won't be long before people start asking questions."
Athena's gaze turned cold. "Then do what you did to your wife."
Adam tensed. "You're suggesting I kill them?"
"No." She leaned in slightly. "Absorb them."
Adam let out a bitter laugh. "Easier said than done. It will take time to drain their essence."
Athena straightened, adjusting her cloak. "I have faith in you."
With that, she turned and left the chamber, the faint echo of her footsteps vanishing into the darkness.
Author's Note:
The word "Amÿnomai" is derived from Greek, meaning "I defend myself."