Chapter 66

It was a while before Alexis thought she had woken up again, but she hadn't really, she was in a dream. She was in the secret garden that Alastair had showed her, studying with large books swamped across the garden instead of flowers.

And then Alastair walked in, he looked exhausted with bags hanging below his eyes. Unfortunately, even in her dream he was still attractive.

Knowing it was dream she gave him a smile. He returned it with cold eyes, his face didn't move at all as he stared her down.

"You'll leave soon…". His red eyes seemed redder than usual.

"Leave?" She returned with confusion.

"Back to that world".

For a minute, she sat there stunned. She felt her throat burn at the questions she wanted to ask, but didn't have the courage to.

'Do you want me to stay…? ' but when she met his shrewd eyes she had no courage to say the words.

"That's right. Don't tell me you thought you'd stay forever? Ha! You don't belong here…", the haughty voice she was familiar with spoke lies that she quickly unravelled through furrowed brows.

"No. No. I still have things to do. Things to finish…" she muttered to herself.

Dream Alastair became silent, a grave silent. Alexis glance around him, her mind recalled what Emilia had said about Alastair when they had first spoken.

'A mask. He's pretending.'

"You've done your work. I don't need you here anymore. You'll just a nuisance if you stay" this time it looked real. The sharp red eyes, the glittering pale hair that rose slowly and steadily.

His words seemed to painfully wrap around her heart. Like a hand that relentlessly squeezed it.

"Ah!" She gave a startled cry and the dream faded.

The previous emperors execution was attended by all of nobility. Even his family, who were forced to attend, felt disgust at the amount that showed up ready to see the death of the one they previously called Emperor.

They hated Darron.

It was no secret. Only to Darron it was.

He was always violent, with everyone and anyone. Executing any that disagreed with him. Humiliating any man that stepped on his pride. Claiming any women he favoured, be it a noble man's wife, a maid or a prostitute.

It was so bad that noble families were required to give up a daughter on his birthdays, rotating families for each birthday.

He was a cradle snatcher. Every fathers nightmare.

Losing their precious daughters to the greedy old man who'd discard of them once he was bored. Locking them up behind tower walls.

It wasn't a shock that he forced himself of an elf woman, in fact, rumours floated about that he had a collection of elf women. And when a child was born from one of these women nobody was surprised, except maybe a bit frightened.

That the child would mean a change for the Kaedmen Empire.

Under normal circumstances the child would be killed, but he had royal blood and so it wasn't so easy. Nobody foresaw that he would become the Emperor. And such an admirable one at that. Kind hearted, but strong and resilient.

They had been sceptic at first, but seeing his achievements exceeded any emperor except the first Emperor Constantine, they were hopeful.

Ready to see the end of the previous emperor.

Darron was dragged in, legs limping behind him as he roughly stumbled to catch up with the merciless soldiers. His arms held in chains that wrapped messily around his neck, arms and torso.

He looked so different, so worn down that Dexter gasped at his appearance. He could see his mother along with the other imperial mothers tremble. The only one who held up well was LiLianna and it was no secret she despised Darron. Well… among the family anyway.

He bit his lip at the sight, his sisters turned away with solemn expressions. No tears in sight. Rather, they feared their future which seemed bleak.

Most children would cry at the sight, but the two sisters, along with Dexter were ignored by their father. No- maybe ignored was too nice. It was neglect. The princess' had no value to him except as assets to give for alliances with countries and nobles. And Dexter, unfortunately, was just an extra heir.

Living in the shadow of his perfect older brother.

Nobility disliked his existence. Their positions were at risk the moment he becomes of age, and draws his silly teenage fingers to whatever dukedom he wanted.

And so as a threat, most wanted him gone. Numerous assassination attempts had shown him it was true. He was wanted dead.

Women would approach him, hiding daggers and poison beneath large skirts and charming smiles. He had seen deaths door many times and yet nobody batted an eyelash. Nobody cared. Because, Darron never cared.

And so Dexter, although wanting that attention his older brother got from his father, never loved him. His sisters didn't hold any emotional attachment to their distant father either.

He flinched as the guillotine knife fell. Roars came from the crowd and yet his family sat in silence, watching the head that once belong to their proud father roll gruesomely on the floor.

'It was all so useless' he frowned.

Alastair didn't attend. He didn't care so much and didn't want to. After all, if it was possible he would wish for a better father. That lingering attachment, toxic but unavoidable, still bothered him. And so he didn't watch.

He lay on his side. Hands touching a small face. Grazing eyelids that he had wished a thousand times to open and stare at him with an obnoxious grin. So he could see that he could see a sparkle in them again.

He summoned the contract, not fazed by the now green writing that stained it. Everything was green except for the last bit.

'When the requirements are fulfilled I agree to send you back to wherever you desire' .

The words glowed in red.

Mocking him.