Chapter 52 - Helios (Part 1)

The King's head suddenly drooped, his regal bearing faltering.

*COUGH*

*COUGH*

*COUGH*

A series of violent coughs wracked his body, each one more forceful than the last. Without warning, he crumpled to the ground, consciousness clinging by a thread.

The King's head suddenly drooped, his regal bearing faltering. A series of violent coughs wracked his body, each one more forceful than the last. Without warning, he crumpled to the ground, consciousness clinging by a thread.

"Your Majesty!" The reporters cried out in unison, rushing to aid their fallen monarch. They gently helped him to his feet, concern etched on their faces. The King, in his relentless pursuit of duty, had neglected his own well-being.

"Greetings, Your Majesty." A familiar voice cut through the chaos, its tone carrying an undercurrent of something...off. The King's head snapped around, recognition dawning in his eyes.

In a flash of movement, the King seized the newcomer by the collar, pulling him close. "You fucking asshole," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. Turning back to the startled reporters, he barked, "You may leave." As they scurried away, he rounded on the man again. "AND AS FOR YOU."

The man, revealed to be Kyle Brunte, the King's personal advisor, stood impassively, his expression unsettlingly strange.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" The King loomed over Kyle, still clutching his collar. But something in Kyle's demeanor gave him pause. "What is it?" he asked, his head tilting slightly, worry creeping into his voice.

Kyle grasped the King's hands, freeing himself from the grip. He stepped back, his gaze fixed on the ground, an air of unspoken dread surrounding him.

Helios reached out, concern overriding his anger, his hand moving towards Kyle's shoulder. But before he could make contact, a voice shattered the moment.

"So, this is what you've been doing."

The words hung in the air, each syllable dripping with familiar venom. Helios felt his body go rigid, a tremor running through him even as his gaze remained locked on Kyle. He didn't need to look up to know who had spoken. That voice, so achingly familiar, promised a reckoning he had long feared would come.

"RAISE YOUR HEAD," the man ordered, his voice dripping with contempt. "OR DO YOU WISH TO BE TAUGHT THAT AS WELL?"

Helios, the once-mighty King, trembled violently before his elder brother, Hades. Their resemblance was uncanny - both possessed the same pale blond hair that seemed to catch light like spun gold, the same ruby-red eyes that could pierce through souls. They were of similar build, neither particularly short nor muscular, but there was something in their shared genetic lineage that made their similarity almost unsettling.

Yet in this moment, the similarity only amplified Helios' terror. His body betrayed his fear - a visceral, primal response that stripped away every shred of royal dignity. Each muscle quivered uncontrollably, his hands shaking so intensely that they seemed disconnected from his body.

His breath came in short, desperate gasps - ragged and uneven. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples, revealing the depth of his fear. Their shared features made his terror even more pronounced - as if looking into a mirror that reflected his most profound weaknesses.

The King's eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were now wide and glassy - filled with a terror that spoke of deep-rooted trauma. They darted nervously, unable to maintain direct eye contact with eyes so similar to his own, flickering with the remembered pain of past confrontations.

His spine curved slightly, as if anticipating a blow, a physical manifestation of the psychological submission that his elder brother could instantaneously invoke. In this moment, Helios was not a king, but a frightened child - reduced to a state of absolute vulnerability by the mere presence of the man before him.

The trembling was not just physical, but seemed to emanate from his very soul - a complete and total breakdown of his carefully constructed royal persona.

The air crackled with tension as Hades, the biological father of Luxana, narrowed his ruby-red eyes at Helios. The once-mighty King of Domino stood trembling, his regal bearing shattered by the mere presence of his elder brother.

Hades approached with deliberate steps, each movement radiating an otherworldly power. Helios instinctively retreated, his body betraying his fear. In a swift motion, Hades' hand clasped Helios' shoulder, the touch electric and terrifying.

Suddenly, Hades yanked Helios forward, his grip vise-like on the back of his brother's neck. Their foreheads collided, bringing them eye to eye. The similarity of their features - the same pale blond hair, the same ruby-red eyes - made the confrontation all the more unsettling.

"WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?" Hades' voice was a low, menacing growl that seemed to emanate from the depths of the underworld itself. His words carried the weight of eons, promising retribution.

Helios, in a desperate bid for freedom, pushed against Hades' chest, breaking free from the iron grip. He stumbled backward, his upper body hunched, gasping for air as if he'd been submerged in the River Styx itself.

But Hades was relentless. He seized Helios' hands, and in a fluid motion that spoke of ancient combat training, delivered a powerful kick to his brother's stomach. The impact sent Helios flying, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded puppet.

As consciousness fled from Helios, the last thing he saw was Hades looming over him, a dark silhouette against the bright Domino sky - a stark reminder of the chasm between the realm of light he ruled and the shadowy domain of his brother.

-30 years ago, Helia Palace, Garden-

The sun-dappled gardens of Helia Palace echoed with the joyous laughter of two young princes. Five-year-old Helios, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, chased after his elder brother Hades, their small feet pattering against the lush grass.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! STOOOOOOOOOOOOOP! I can't catch you!" Helios cried out, his voice a mixture of frustration and delight.

Hades, a mischievous grin on his face, called back over his shoulder, "HEHEEEE! You can't catch meee!" The two boys darted between flowerbeds and fountains, their loyal retinue of maids and servants trailing behind, trying to keep up with the energetic princes.

At a nearby table, the Emperor and Empress of Domino sat in quiet contentment, sipping fine tea as they watched their children play. The Empress's eyes softened with maternal affection as she observed the scene.

"How I wish they preserve this profound affection throughout their lives," the Empress remarked, delicately sipping her preferred tea.

The Emperor nodded in agreement, placing his hand gently over his beloved wife's. "Indeed, my dear," he responded warmly.

However, a shadow of concern crossed the Empress's face. "My love," she began, her voice tinged with maternal anxiety, "Regarding the matter of succession - might we consider an alternative path? I fear sending Helios abroad for education would cause him profound distress. Would it not be possible to arrange for another relative to inherit the throne? My heart trembles at the prospect of potential familial discord."

The golden rule of Domino cast a long shadow over the idyllic scene in the palace gardens. For generations, it had been decreed that all royal children, save for the chosen heir, must be sent abroad for their education. This harsh tradition, born from the blood-soaked pages of history, was designed to prevent the violent power struggles that had once threatened to tear the Empire asunder. That's why, Helios' children lived far from Domino's borders, raised by their mothers in distant lands.

The Emperor's eyes, usually alight with mirth as he watched his sons play, now held a weight that seemed to age him beyond his years. He turned to his beloved wife, his voice a mixture of tenderness and resignation.

"My dear," he began, each word carefully chosen, "your maternal instincts do you credit. The love you bear for our children is as boundless as the sky above us." He paused, his gaze drifting to where Hades and Helios chased each other, their laughter a stark contrast to the gravity of the conversation.

"Yet," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "we bear the crown not just for ourselves, but for all of Domino. The peace we enjoy now was bought with the tears and blood of our ancestors."

The Empress reached out, her delicate hand covering his. The Emperor sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire kingdom.

"However," he said, a glimmer of determination sparking in his eyes, "for the love I bear you and our sons, I shall endeavor to find a path that honors both tradition and the bonds of family. It will not be easy, but I give you my word - I will do my utmost."

As the words left his lips, a gentle breeze swept through the garden, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the promise of change. The future, once set in stone, now seemed as fluid as the wind itself, full of both peril and possibility.

-3 years later, Royal Graveyard in Domino-

The heavens wept, mirroring the somber mood that enveloped the Royal Graveyard of Domino. A sea of black-clad figures - royal family members, palace servants, nobility - stood in silent reverence before the Empress's final resting place. The rain, relentless in its descent, seemed to blur the lines between tears and raindrops.

Prince Helios, his young face contorted with grief, clung desperately to his elder brother's sleeve. His sobs, though muffled, pierced the heavy silence. In stark contrast, Prince Hades stood stoic, his face an impenetrable mask, betraying no emotion. The absence of the Emperor, who had chosen not to attend, cast a palpable shadow over the proceedings.

-Inside Helia Palace, After the Funeral-

The halls of Helia Palace buzzed with a nervous energy, a stark contrast to the solemnity outside. Prince Hades, his eyes devoid of their usual luster, reached out to halt a passing maid by gently grasping her skirt.

"What transpires within these walls?" he inquired, his voice barely above a whisper.

The maid, caught between her duties and the heart-wrenching sight before her, paused. Her gaze fell upon the tear-stained face of Prince Helios and the eerily composed Prince Hades. Mindful of her station, she knelt to meet their eyes, careful not to breach the unspoken barrier between royalty and servant.

With a voice laden with sorrow, she imparted, "Your Highnesses... a new maternal figure shall soon grace these halls."

Her words were cut short by a sharp command from the head maid, "Renna! Make haste!"

Renna rose, casting a final, pained glance at the young princes - living portraits of tragedy - before hurrying to her duties, leaving the children to grapple with this new, unsettling reality.

-Half a Year Later – Morning, The Dining Table-

The golden light of morning slanted through the stained-glass windows of the royal dining hall, casting long, fractured shadows that stretched like grasping fingers across the marble floor. The opulence of the room—its towering pillars, its gilded chandeliers—was a world apart from the small, hollow-eyed boy who entered, his every movement precise, measured.

Eight-year-old Prince Helios knelt before the Empress with mechanical grace, his delicate fingers producing a handkerchief as pristine as the expectations placed upon him. Without hesitation, he bent forward, pressing the cloth to the pointed tip of her jeweled slippers, moving in slow, deliberate circles. The repetitive motion was neither a gesture of love nor respect. It was ritual. A conditioned response. A silent plea.

The Empress did not acknowledge him. She merely continued sipping her morning wine, the light catching the cruel glint in her eyes.

Helios rose and turned to the Emperor. His father extended a polished boot, the supple leather immaculate. Helios knew better than to assume perfection was enough—he scrubbed anyway.

When he finished, the Emperor finally moved. The sound of tearing bread filled the vast chamber, followed by the dull thud of a small, ragged piece hitting the boy's waiting hands. One-third of a loaf. Not a reward. A reminder.

Helios bowed deeply, murmured his gratitude, and retreated in practiced silence. His back remained straight, his pace controlled, his exit graceful—anything less would warrant correction.

-Evening, in the Garden-

The palace gardens, bathed in twilight, were a realm of delicate beauty. White magnolias and night-blooming jasmine perfumed the air, their petals glowing silver beneath the moonlight. It was a place of serenity—for all but one.

Helios moved through the garden with the same calculated care he exhibited everywhere, balancing a fragile porcelain teapot upon a silver tray. His thin fingers trembled from exertion, but he forced them steady. The New Empress sat beneath a silk canopy, surrounded by handmaidens who adorned her in the colors of dusk. She did not glance at the boy.

He reached her table, lowering himself into a perfect bow. The cup, a delicate thing of bone china, was placed before her with reverence.

The garden fell silent.

Helios did not breathe as she lifted the cup to her lips, tilting it ever so slightly. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His hands clenched the tray so tightly he thought his bones might snap.

A single sip.

A pause.

The Empress set the cup down.

Helios dared to hope.

Then—her fingers twitched. The cup toppled.

Scalding tea cascaded over his hands, his arms, soaking through the thin fabric of his tunic. The pain was immediate, sharp—an acidic fire eating through flesh.

Helios did not cry out. He did not move.

The handmaidens tittered softly, their laughter like the rustling of silk.

The Empress leaned back, unimpressed. "Brew it again," she said.

And so he bowed, his blistered hands steady as he gathered the shattered cup, ignoring the way his skin peeled where the tea had kissed it.

He turned.

He walked.

And he did not let them see him break.

To be Continued...