“That the only one worthy is Queen Nymira.”
The King’s expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief. “But Queen Nymira is your mother,” he said, as if the prince had forgotten.
The prince met the King’s gaze without flinching. “I truly believe that she is the best candidate.”
A stunned silence filled the room as everyone processed the Prince’s unexpected proclamation. Lokir’s crooked smile revealed his yellowed teeth, while Narim’s face remained unreadable and placid.
“Seems like Darian finds it’s funny. Leave us,” Inglud took off his crown and slowly descended from the throne to Darian as counselors left the room. “Explain yourself,” King stood right over Darian.” Right now!”
Darian remained outwardly calm, though his heart was pounding in his chest. “You said my future wife must be worthy. Who could be more worthy than Queen Nymira? She has already birthed Serpent-Slayers and could bear more.”
“With you?” he sneered. “You are a complete disappointment, Darian. I had hoped for better. I thought you could at least find yourself a woman, but I see now you can’t even do that. Forget everything I told you. Your mother will continue our family line and bear more children. And you. I’ll deal with you later,” Inglud’s voice trailed off. “Take this fool away.”
Without a word, the guards entered the room and led Darian away to his chambers. Despite the king’s words, Darian remained resolute and focused, his mind already turning to his next move.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Darian reflected on the events of the past few days, his mind racing with possibilities and questions. Was this all a coincidence, or was it destiny? His heart beat with excitement at the thought of what was to come.
“I am ready,” he whispered to himself. “I am ready to become Darian the Great.”
The weight of guilt hung heavily on him as he carefully extracted a brick from the wall, revealing a small compartment where he had hidden precious belongings as a child. Only he and Narim knew of this secret hiding spot, and now it would serve a different purpose. With a trembling hand, he placed the small bundle inside, the bundle that held the fate of a life in its hands.
===
Darian strode purposefully towards the ornate doors leading to the queen’s chambers.
As he approached, Braga stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “You are not allowed to be here,” he barked like a dog.
“I want to talk to the queen”
A sudden hush fell over the chamber as a voice called out from behind the doors. “Who’s there, Braga?”
“The prince has come, my queen,” Braga responded, stepping aside.
“Let him in.”
“As you wish, my queen,” Braga said his tone deferential as he opened the door and allowed Darian to enter.
As Darian stepped into the room, his eyes fell upon Nymira, who was gently cradling Tartuff and preparing him for slumber. She was dressed in a flowing emerald gown, her hair falling in loose waves around her face. The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a soft, ethereal glow upon her delicate features, and Darian found himself utterly entranced by her beauty.
“I hope you came to apologize,” Nymira said as she placed the sleeping baby in a bed full of soft quilts. “Inglud told me everything. How could you say something like that? You have dishonored the king, you have dishonored me.”
Darian sat on the king’s bed, draped with a silk blanket. “Yes, I must have acted recklessly”
Nymira approached the bed and took a seat beside Darian. “Yes, you have. Your father is disappointed in you. If you go to him and explain that you weren’t serious, he may be willing to forgive you.”
Darian’s eyes were fixed on his mother, who leaned forward slightly, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the plunging neckline. “I understand, mother,” he replied.
Darian’s hand glided along the smooth skin of Nymira’s leg, lifting the fabric of her nightie. Every touch felt deliberate and meaningful, he lifted the hem of her nightie, savoring the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
“Don’t, Darian,” she gasped, her hands pushing against his chest, her breath catching in her throat. “I am your queen. Your mother.”
Her resolve quickly melted away as Darian continued to explore every inch of her body, his touch sending electric shocks of pleasure through her. She couldn’t help but moan his name, the sound a sweet melody on her lips. “Darian,” she breathed. The nightie slipped further up her leg, revealing more of her porcelain skin. She gasped and moaned, her mind clouded with a heady mix of desire and guilt.
Finally, he looked up at her with a fierce intensity in his eyes. ” Don’t fight it. I know who you are,” he said, his voice low and husky. “But I also know how I feel. I love you, mother.” The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
Suddenly, she protested, “No, that’s enough.” The mood shattered like a fragile glass. “You crossed the line, Darian”
But before she could say more, the chamber door burst open, and the king stormed in with Braga and a dozen knights in tow. “What’s going on here?”
“I just came here to visit my brother and mother,” Darian said, but it was clear that the king was not interested in hearing his side of the story.
“I told you he was here, king ” Said Braga.
“Did you touch her?” Without warning, Inglud launched a brutal attack on Darian, striking him repeatedly in the face and head with his fists. Several of prince’s teeth flew out, blood splattered on the floor, everything swam before his eyes.
“This is definitely a concussion,” he thought.
Through the haze, he heard mother’s voice, pleading with the king to stop. “No, Inglud,” her voice trembling with emotion.
“Kill him, my king. Do it!” Lokir’s squeaky and giggling voice reached his ears.
Eventually, Darian’s body gave out and he fell unconscious. When he came to, he was in a dark, damp cell in the castle’s dungeons. His head throbbed with pain and his jaw felt broken.
“I need some rest,” he thought, slumping against the cold stone wall. But as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his troubles were only just beginning.
CHAPTER 6. KINGSLAYER
Darian found himself confined in a small, damp dungeon with three cells lining one wall. He recognized the walls of the castle’s dungeon, located several floors below his own chambers. Beyond the cells was a massive window overlooking the front yard, teeming with guards.
Time seemed to blur for Darian as he drifted in and out of consciousness, tormented by constant headaches. The only visitor he received during the captivity was the commandant, who arrived every evening with a meager portion of poorly cooked vegetables and scraps of meat.
One morning, he was rudely awakened by the sound of a commotion outside his cell.
“Wake up, prisoner,” the commandant barked. “The king has arrived.”
Darian lifted his head and saw a towering, white-haired man standing before him.
“You may leave, Frison,” the king said with voice echoing in the damp dungeon. The commandant bowed and quickly exited, leaving Darian alone with the imposing figure of the king.
Inglud said nothing for a couple of minutes, his piercing gaze scanning the cell.
“Within a month, you will be sent to the North to extract gold in the cold mines with other prisoners. That’s the life that awaits you from this point on. Be grateful that you’re still breathing,” the king said with a tone of finality.
“Fuck you.”
Without warning, a huge hand seized Darian by the throat and lifted him up. His air supply was cut off, and he struggled to breathe as he dangled helplessly in the air.
“I could strangle you right here and now, but I don’t know how I’ll explain it to your brother,” the king said, his grip tightening on Darian’s throat. He released him, and Darian fell heavily onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor.
“I bet you enjoyed yourself,” the king said after a pause, his words dripping with venom. “You had a chance to touch the queen. Don’t be sad. At least now you’ll have something to remember after a hard day in the mines. And while you rot there, I’ll keep producing heirs with her. I’ll impregnate her with the one while you’re still in the castle. Think about it every second you’re here.”
Prince was silent. He crawled sluggishly into cells’ corner.
“I can’t believe you are one of the Serpent-Slayers,” he king muttered before turning and exiting the cell, leaving the prince alone once more.
“You will believe,” Darian thought to himself, despite the pounding pain in his head.
Struggling to keep his eyes open, he fought to piece together the events that just happened. “I have to remember everything. I have to remember my hatred,” he urged himself, but his mind continued to slip away.
Suddenly, a figure loomed over him, and he recognized Narim’s face.
“How long has it been?” Darian rubbed tired eyes and strained head to remember recent meeting with the King.
“You’ve been here for two weeks, my prince,” Narim replied softly. “I am so sorry for everything that has happened to you.”
“Yeah, me too.” Despite the tumultuous circumstances, he couldn’t deny that the one moment he had shared with the queen had made it all worthwhile.
“Prince. Do you hear me?” Narim clicked in front of his face.
“Yes, I can hear you. You don’t have to click in front of my face. Have you come to say goodbye or what?”
“I’m sorry,” Narim said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “Actually, I have come to offer you salvation.” He discreetly retrieved a tiny key from his belt. “Escape tonight. Start a new life, hide, and forget everything that happened. Forget your past life.”
Darian scoffed, his body aching from his time in the dungeon. “And what? Live like a rat? You’re underestimating me again, my old friend. I thought you would know me better than all those king’s ass-lickers. I thought you would know that I am a conqueror! I am Darian the Serpent-Slayer.” He rose, resting his hand on the cold wall of the dungeon. “I won’t live like a rat in oblivion, forgetting my past. Just give me the key and go…”
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