The walk to the royal throne room felt like a march to a gallows. The Trinity, accompanied by Kaelen and Jace, moved through the vaulted halls of the palace. The gold-leafed walls and fine tapestries, which usually symbolized security, now felt like the bars of a cage.
When the heavy oak doors swung open, King Alaric the Elder stood at the far end of the hall. He looked aged, his crown sitting heavy upon a brow etched with deep lines of exhaustion.
The Prince’s Defiance
"You disobeyed a direct royal decree," the King’s voice boomed, though it lacked its usual fire. "You risked the life of the heir to the throne, and for what? To chase a ghost in the dark?"
Alaric didn't flinch. He stepped forward, his boots clicking sharply on the marble. "I didn't chase a ghost, Father. I saved my family. Something you were too afraid to do."
"Do not speak to me of fear!" the King roared, slamming his fist onto the arm of his throne. "I protected this kingdom from a man who could turn the very air into a trap! I forbade you for your own survival!"
"Survival isn't living!" Alaric shouted back, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. "You let a monster rot in the depths of your city because you were a coward. You let him take Clara, you let him torture Seraphina, and you would have let them die rather than face your own shadow. You are a King, but today, I am ashamed to be your son."
The King’s Breaking Point
The room went deathly silent. The guards shifted uncomfortably, and Seraphina stepped closer to Alaric, ready to defend him even from his own father.
The King’s face contorted, not with rage, but with a sudden, agonizing grief. He slumped back into his throne, his shoulders shaking. Slowly, he reached up and removed his crown, placing it on the floor beside him.
"You think I stayed away because I was afraid of dying?" the King whispered, his voice cracking. "No, Alaric. I stayed away because I was afraid of remembering."
He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "You wonder why I never spoke of your mother’s passing? Why there are no paintings of her final days in this palace?"
The Tragedy of Queen Elena
The King stood up and walked toward them, his steps heavy. He stopped in front of Alaric and placed a trembling hand on his son’s shoulder.
"Marek Packwood didn't just 'target' the kingdom years ago," the King said. "He targeted me. He took your mother, Elena, while I was away at the borders. For three months, he kept her in a cellar beneath the old slums."
Alaric’s breath hitched. He had been told she died of a sudden wasting sickness.
"When I finally found them," the King continued, his voice thick with tears, "she was... she was just like the mage girl. She sat at his feet, smiling that horrible, vacant smile. She called him 'Master.' She told me she loved him more than she had ever loved me. Marek had turned her into his ultimate shield."
A sob escaped the King’s throat. "I lunged for him, Alaric. I wanted to tear his throat out. But Elena... she threw herself in the way. She didn't use a spell; she just used her body. My sword went through her chest because she wanted to save him. She died in my arms, and even as her heart stopped, she was reaching out for him, not me. She died a slave, smiling for a monster."
The Burden of the Crown
The King pulled Alaric into a fierce, desperate embrace, weeping openly. "I couldn't let you go there. I couldn't watch you kill the girl you love because she was forced to protect him. I couldn't let history repeat itself in your hands."
Alaric stood frozen, the weight of the revelation crashing down on him. He looked at Seraphina and Clara. They were staring at the King with wide, horrified eyes. They realized now that they weren't the first "Slave-Wives" Marek had created—but they were the first to survive it.
"He's dead now, Father," Alaric whispered, finally returning his father's hug. "Seraphina killed him. The cycle is over."
"Then you are a better man than I," the King sobbed, pulling back to look at the Trinity. "And Oakhaven is lucky to have you. But god help us all for the price you had to pay."
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